Harry Potter and the Scrivenings of Slytherin
by Afterthought btw
Summary: AU 6th year PreHBP The pressure of the wizarding world upon Harry, will he crack? A Wizengamot trial, a suspicious DADA Teacher, Occlumency, Dark magic -is it?- not to mention Sirius' death and more pile on top of him. And the small matter of a Prophecy.
1. A Normal Day, for an Abnormal Person

_A/N: Okay, so Half-Blood Prince has been released since this story was started (edit... and DH). What did that mean to this story? Well, in the main, absolutely nothing. Zip. Nadda. All my plot remained as intended. There are a couple of things that people might conceivably say are similar, one which is identical, which is relatively minor, and another thing which isn't - isn't identical or minor - but they have both been intended from the start. There are small areas where I may refer to things in the book, or keep my universe similar in some respects - for example, if you look carefully you may find an occasional hidden references to a Horcrux - and speaking of Horcruxes, they will not make the appearance they did in HBP. If they are mentioned, they will not affect the plot - the story will remain the same as it would have been were HBP still a year away. Oh, and like any author, I love feedback, so if you like the story, say so! :)_

As regards this story, 'it' is all mine. Where 'it' is everything not owned by J.K. Rowling of course. Bah, I feel silly writing a disclaimer on a fan-fiction dedicated site... Kind of superfluous, no?

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**Chapter 1: A Normal Day, for an Abnormal Person**

It was another hot July day, with the sun beating down onto parched grass, and scorched earth. The annual hose-pipe ban was in full flow, and the normally pristine lawns were withered and dying. Of course, most _normal_ sixteen year old boys weren't bothered about the weather. Most _normal_ sixteen year olds were inside, playing their respective consoles, with their other, _normal_, friends who would only leave the house when evening came, and the heat abated. Then, like most _normal_ boys, they would go out, and find younger boys to beat up, and 'practice boxing' against, or find untouched public equipment to destroy.

Harry James Potter however, was not a _normal_ boy, as his aunt and uncle never tired of telling him. What _normal_ boy would be sitting outside on the hot ground, hidden from sight of the road, peering through glasses that looked as though they were held together by magic at a newspaper? What _normal_ boy would pour through the said paper, looking more and more worried as he finished each article? Of course, if you listened to Harry's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, what _normal_ boy would read at all?

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were right about one thing however, Harry Potter in fact wasn't what you would call normal. Harry Potter; was a wizard. Not just that however, Harry Potter was the wizard that had defeated the most evil, sadistic, violent wizard in centuries when he was just a baby. And more than this – Harry Potter was top of the newly resurrected Lord Voldemort's hit list.

Sitting here was as close as Harry could get to not being cooped up – if he remained inside then the best he could hope for was to go upstairs, to his tiny room, and be ignored completely. The worst case scenario was to be verbally abused by his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Thankfully the physical abuse seemed to be over for this year – his aunt and uncle weren't afraid of him, as he couldn't use magic out of school, but they were afraid of Mad-Eye Moody and his rolling eye. Of course, if he left the grounds of the house, then the best he could hope for was to be met by annoyed members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, and sent back home with strict instructions not to leave again. The worst… was the thing that Harry had tried to avoid thinking about the most this summer. Well. Almost the most, he corrected himself.

Harry had only once left the house for a walk this summer, and that was when he didn't trust himself to take anymore of the Dursleys' constant insults and orders. As luck would have it, he ran into Snape, and the words that Snape had for him were as predictable, as they were unjust and barbed. Professor Severus Snape, the Potions master at Hogwarts, and Harry had a bond of mutual enmity between them that was seemingly impossible to break. For Professor Snape the hatred was born out of abhorrence of the father more than the son. He saw James Potter as an arrogant boy that had strutted around the school as if he owned it, didn't care for rules, and bullied people he ran into. It probably didn't help matters that James also happened to be the top student in the school, and constantly outshone Snape in everything he did.

The problem for Harry; was that he couldn't help but wonder if this hatred was in fact reasonable – this was possibly third in his list of things to avoid thinking about this summer. From Harry's point of view, however, the fault for this less than savoury relationship between them was all Snape's., because he was unable to separate father from son in his head. Snape had been unfairly criticising him, taking house points off him, and trying to get him expelled since the first day they had met.

After the meeting with Snape, Harry had spent his days as close to the boundaries of his relations' property as possible, only venturing inside when he had to. The first week since Harry had returned to Number 4 Privet Drive from school had passed by without any deaths, at least, but with many calls for the resignation of Minister Fudge, and many articles of advice in the Defence Against the Dark Arts that was going to become vital in the next few years – and possibly longer they claimed, although Harry was sure that Voldemort wouldn't wait that long. And once Voldemort had struck, there would only be two outcomes. He, Harry, would have murdered Voldemort, or Harry and his closest friends would be dead, and the wizarding and Muggle worlds doomed.

Since that first week however, wizards and Muggles had started dying, with a terrifying green mark over the area of death the only sign of the culprits. Hundreds had died: wizard-borns, Muggle-borns, and Muggles, and a Muggle was the only one who had managed to kill one of his assailants. The way the Daily Prophet told it, it sounded like the Muggle farmer had heard intruders, reached for his shotgun, and pumped pellets into a Death Eater from close range before being tortured and killed by the Death Eater's comrades. The Death Eater – Vanda Murdock – had been left behind when the other Death Eaters had disapparated away, leaving a lead for the Ministry in the hunt for Voldemort's followers. Voldemort had been most displeased that a mere Muggle had managed to deplete his numbers. Harry knew. He had punished the offending people in his dream last night. He had found out why the next morning.

Harry's hands were trembling – all of it was his fault! If he hadn't prevented Professor Lupin and Sirius from killing Pettigrew two years ago, Voldemort wouldn't have been resurrected. Sirius. He had killed him. He lived through it again and again at night. Sometimes he held the wand, sometimes Voldemort, or Bellatrix Lestrange did, but each time he saw Sirius come to his aid, and each time he could do nothing but watch the wand raise, and hear the cruel words: 'Avada Kedavra!' Sirius' body would fall back, a look of astonishment and accusation on his face, and then … disappear. Harry had seen the veil so often in his dreams; he could picture it perfectly in his head even when awake.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden crash of thunder. Looking up with a start, he could see nothing but blue skies and sun. Then –

"BOY! COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" Vernon Dursley, roared.

Harry folded the newspaper in two, and looked to his right, where the yelling had come from. He took a double take. A small thundercloud was settled over a clump of begonias, raining hard, and producing mini lightning bolts which flashed brightly, although they didn't seem to be doing anything particularly harmful to Harry. The parched begonias looked rather grateful for the water, and seemed to perk up in front of Harry's eyes. Before he could stop himself, he laughed. It wasn't a genuine laugh, however. It was missing something imperceptible. That had been missing since that night in the Department of Mysteries. Almost at once, the thundercloud disappeared.

Uncle Vernon was advancing menacingly towards him. "What the DEVIL do you mean by this boy? We told you… we warned you… there is to be none of your abnormality around here, not even a mention of it! Understand?"

"I'm not the one yelling about it in the middle of Privet Drive." Harry replied coolly, removing his wand from his pocket, and holding it in his right hand, which was hanging loosely by his side. "It was an accident – I can't help it."

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!" Vernon Dursley's face was turning an all too familiar shade of puce. "You will go inside and wait for me in the kitchen – do you understand? And put that thing away!" he hissed.

"Fine –" Harry shrugged before continuing "– I'll see you in a minute then."

Harry walked inside slowly, purposely keeping his wand out, willing himself to stay calm, and not cause any more accidental magic. He wasn't sure if accidental magic was an expellable offence or not – he guessed not, as he had done some last year which wasn't mentioned at his hearing, but he didn't want to take any chances. Anyway, it would make the Dursleys harder to handle. Harry wasn't afraid of the Dursleys anymore. He had his wand – he could do far more to them than they could to him. But, he might end up blowing the house to smithereens if the Dursleys riled him enough and he wasn't careful. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort then, he thought humourlessly.

"What are you doing in the house, boy?" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice interrupted his thoughts again.

As much as Harry wanted to retort that he lived in the house too, he forced himself to reply in a neutral tone. "Uncle Vernon wanted to talk to me."

Aunt Petunia sniffed. "Sit down then, and don't you dare make a sound."

Harry had given up asking her about how she knew Dumbledore, and in any case, did not want to get into more trouble than he was undoubtedly already in. He watched Petunia Dursley potter about the kitchen for a while, wondering for the umpteenth time how he was related to the Dursleys. After all, his mother and father were clever and magically powerful, wanted to make a difference to the world and sacrificed their lives for him, when he was a baby. He found it hard to believe that Lily Potter would, like her sister, have stayed home, and brought up a spoilt brat as a child, eavesdropping on their neighbours' conversations, and using her nephew as a slave to keep the house spotless and the garden immaculate. He couldn't imagine his father bullying his nephew for fun – he stopped. What about Snape?

James Potter had certainly embarrassed Snape when he had had the chance. The scene he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve was forever etched in his memory. Sirius and Lupin had told him Snape was into the Dark Arts, and James had always hated the Dark Arts. Was that really an excuse though? Snape had called his mother a Mudblood. Could he see himself using his wand on a Slytherin simply because of their Pureblood mania?

Malfoy definitely, but wouldn't it just be an excuse to curse Malfoy then? With everything Malfoy had done and tried to do to him, Harry felt he had every reason in the world to curse Malfoy. But he knew he wouldn't pick on Malfoy just because he was bored, like James and Sirius had. Whenever something happened between him and Malfoy, Malfoy was the one that instigated it all. The one thing he hung on to, was the idea that it sounded like the Marauders and Snape had been going at each other from day one. Maybe James Potter and Sirius Black were merely playing to the crowd when they said the problem was just that Snivellus – Snape – existed.

Sirius and Lupin had said that his father had grown up, had stopped cursing everyone he met, and even if he still did curse Snape from time to time it was only because Snape would curse him if given half the chance. But the fact remained, that he, like Dudley, had sought out people who were weaker than he was, and then magically 'beat them up' just like Dudley beat up the few children younger than him that didn't run away on sight.

Harry caught sight of Uncle Vernon passing the window with the begonias that Harry had magically watered snapped and the life wrung out of them, and shook his head in disbelief. They were so completely afraid of magic that they had to dispose of anything touched by it. He was more than slightly amazed that his books and trunk had lasted over the summer in his first few years at school. He couldn't help the feeling, either, that Aunt Petunia was the only reason he also hadn't been cast into the rubbish like those flowers. He clenched his fist around his wand and brought it up onto the table.

"Don't you point that thing at me boy." Aunt Petunia snapped.

"I wasn't -"

"How dare you threaten your aunt, Potter?"

"I didn't -"

"Put that … that … away this instant!"

Harry's effort to remain calm vanished. He was tired of it all. Of having spent years of neglect here, knowing nothing about where he was from. Of having been the one that had to deal with Voldemort's plots to kill him each year. Of having been kept out of the loop through all of last year. Of having so many friends and innocents deaths weighing on his conscience.

He swung around at Uncle Vernon, and pointed the wand at him. Jumping off his chair, he advanced on the man, red and gold sparks emanating from the wand tip, dissolving as they hit Vernon Dursley's shirt. Harry's uncle yelped, and retreated hastily back into the doorway he had just come through.

"Don't… Don't you try any funny stuff, boy. They'll throw you out of the madhouse, you know that. If you use that thing on me, then you can say goodbye to that freak school of yours! And don't… don't think you'll be allowed to stay here either!" he blustered.

"That's what you said last year too, remember? Guess what? I'm still at Hogwarts, and I'm still living here. I won't be expelled – they need me – they think I'm the only one who can get rid of Voldemort." He hesitated, as he realised what he had just admitted. "Look, I don't want to hex you but I don't really mind that much if you make me. Just… sit down, and, who knows, we might not have to yell whatever we're saying. And don't even think about trying anything. I'll use this if I have to."

Mr and Mrs Dursley gasped. Whether it was at the fact that he'd at last stood up to them, even threatened them, or the fact that he had admitted he was the only person who could kill Lord Voldemort, he wasn't sure. He had the feeling it was the former. Why would his uncle and aunt care about the whole world, when their ability to bully him was in question? Petunia was speechless, but Vernon looked like he was torn between fury and terror.

"I will not be talked to like this boy! You'll apologise and listen to me if you know what's good for you… you… y…" Harry moved the wand closer to his face, and his Uncle sidestepped his way to a chair and sat down, trailing off.

Dudley had appeared behind his father, a look of horror on his face. His hands clasped firmly behind him on his backside, and he edged towards his mother, in the opposite direction to his utterly defeated father.

"Hello, Big D." Harry greeted him coolly. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want, you can go back and watch TV. Oh and I'm not going to give you a pigtail, so stop grabbing your bottom. Although, who knows, maybe I will turn you _completely_ into a pig if you don't watch out."

Harry wasn't sure why he was threatening Dudley – he only had a vague idea that it might be because he had nearly sixteen years of being on the other end to make up. Dudley had actually not been too bad this year. He seemed to have at last realised that Harry had saved his life last year rather than tried to kill him. Whether he had accepted that he had nearly killed them both by punching Harry, Harry wasn't sure.

"How dare you threaten my ickle Duddy-kins!" Aunt Petunia had found her voice again, and was the latest to find a wand directed at her. "We took you in, looked after you, we saved your life by letting you live here. If it wasn't for us, Lord Voldemort could just walk in, point his wand at you, and you'd be dead – and we wouldn't have to look after you anymore."

"Look after me? Look after me?" Sparks were flying out of Harry's wand at ferocious speeds now, matching his emotions.

The cupboards and drawers started to shake, and the cutlery rattled. The light was switching itself on and off, and the curtains had closed themselves. There could have been an earthquake, or cyclone affecting the area. A glass fell off one of the surfaces, and shattered; one of the cupboard doors came apart completely from its hinges, and hit Dudley in the leg, who yelled. Harry glared at them, and the glass repaired itself, and floated back into position, while the cupboard door reattached itself. Dudley stopped yelling. Harry barely noticed, but rather continued angrily: "You call shutting me in a cupboard, lying about who I was, who my parents were, letting Dudley use me as a punch bag…"

As he spoke, Petunia walked shakily over to the glass and examined it.

"You did magic!" She whispered.

Harry was so shocked to hear a note of concern in her quavering voice that he stopped mid sentence and all signs of magic – and his anger – abated.

"They'll expel you. You're not allowed. Quickly – go upstairs."

"You heard your aunt – you're done for now. You did magic, you can't tell me you'll get away with all that now! Now go upstairs!" Uncle Vernon's tone was different to his wife's – while not as furious as previously, it sounded strangely gleeful.

"I'll tell them it wasn't you Harry, _you must go!_" There was anxiety in her voice now as she walked over to open the curtains once more.

Harry looked at her, perplexed. "Who else would it be? I'm the only witch or wizard around here – they told me that at my hearing last year. And why do you care, anyway?"

"If you're the only one that can kill… _him_ … you can't be arrested. I'll… I'll tell them it was me, just go upstairs and I'll lock you in – quickly, before they come!"

It was Harry's turn to be speechless, he couldn't help but feel that Aunt Petunia knew about the prophecy, and not just from what he had let slip earlier. Not only that, but it seemed like Aunt Petunia _had_ some concept of the danger the whole world was in. But that she was willing to protect him? He couldn't believe _that_. He stood looking at the Dursleys mutely for half a minute, until he finally found his voice.

"It's accidental magic, I didn't mean to do any of it. They won't arrest me for this, it's okay." _I hope_. "They only arrest people for wand magic outside of school I think. I didn't use my wand." Suddenly he remembered what she had said – "Why did you think they'd believe you did it Aunt Petunia? They know that you're all Muggles – I mean – normal people. You can't do magic, they'll know that."

Dudley and Uncle Vernon flinched at the word magic, and Uncle Vernon had gone a little redder at the word Muggle, but Aunt Petunia simply turned white and then even into a shade of grey. As Harry finished, she became flustered, and looked around at her husband, but not for support it seemed, but rather apologetically. She looked behind her for a chair, and fell into it. When Harry continued staring at her, wand now by his side, she took a deep breath, gulped, tried to speak and failed.

"Petunia, dear, what is it?" asked Uncle Vernon

"Vernon, I'm… sorry. I… I… when I was- was seven, I… had fallen and broke my ankle. I had to stay lying down all day." She gulped again, "I wanted a glass of water, but I couldn't get up to get it. The- the glass just… flew into my hand." Uncle Vernon gasped, and talking to him now, she continued, "I was so ashamed of what I'd done that I didn't tell anyone. I was not going to let myself become a… become a freak! I was going to be a normal woman, with no hint of any unnaturalness – I wouldn't disappoint my parents – so when that damned letter came for me; I burnt it before my parents could see it. Two more letters came, each trying to get me to go to that awful place, but I burnt them both, before my parents could see them and realise what I was.

"Then Lily got the same letter three years later, and she didn't care about becoming abnormal, or a freak. And my parents encouraged her. They sent her off to that _school_ and bought her everything she needed. She came back each summer more different and strange than the last, and my parents were proud! They didn't see her for the weirdo she was. For the freak that _I_ refused to be, for them! And then that _Voldemort_ appeared and … he … and he killed them – all because of Lily meeting that" – she pursed her lips – "that Potter boy, and having _you_." She said viciously at Harry. "And then you were attacked and Lily and her good for nothing husband died, leaving us with _you_ and I was told that you were the only one that could kill this Voldemort for good, and that you had to stay with us, as you'd be safe here until you could fight him." Aunt Petunia had seemingly forgotten about explaining about magic and gone onto a rant about Lily and Harry.

"Petunia? What… What are you saying, dear?" Uncle Vernon looked like his whole world had been turned upside down, which it probably had.

"Hang on. Are you saying you're a witch?" It was Harry's turn to feel weak and look for a chair. His head was swimming.

His aunt looked furious, his Uncle looked like he was about to faint.

"How dare you call me that! I refused to let that freakish behaviour control me, I forced it out."

"Okay, okay – but … but are you… you are saying that you once had the ability to do magic right?"

His Aunt looked like she was being forced to eat a lemon. "Yes." She spat.

"Well… you do know that magic is just a part of you, that you can't stop it, right?"

"Just because you want to be a freak and refused to let us stamp it out of you, boy, doesn't mean that your aunt can't. She is completely normal, and proud of it. R–Right Petunia?" While Uncle Vernon undoubtedly wanted to either threaten or insult Harry, he sounded more like he wanted to believe what he was saying himself. Dudley let out a squeak of terror.

"Perfectly right, Vernon." Aunt Petunia said decisively. "I haven't done magic once since I was seven. I was strong enough to destroy it."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, his temper boiling over once more. "You idiots know nothing whatsoever about magic, do you? You've refused to even accept it exists for years. I, however, have been in the magical world for five years and have learnt about this kind of thing for those five years. _Trust_ me," He stressed, "you can't get rid of the magic inside you. It's not even a bad thing to have it! There's nothing wrong with having magic."

"Be quiet you insolent boy!" His aunt shrieked. "We know far more about things than you do. Magic isn't natural,; of course it's wrong to have it. I destroyed it. As you ought to have done!"

"You fools!" Harry yelled, eyes flashing, and wand back out. "You can't change the world to fit into your own little world. Magic exists and you can't do a damned thing to stop it." He kicked back his chair, and advanced upon Aunt Petunia once more.

Aunt Petunia was looking up at him, eyes wide open fearfully. As Harry advanced, his wand ripped out of his hand, and flew towards his aunt. It landed gently in her grip. She looked at it in horror, and flung it back at Harry, hitting him on the forehead, clattering on the floor.

Harry stooped to pick it up and shouted at her as he rose again. "You destroyed the magic then did you? What do you call that then?"

"No… I didn't… I couldn't have… I refuse to… No…" She whispered in horror.

"That, aunt, was a disarming charm." Harry lectured sarcastically. "Expelliarmus it's called. It disarms a man, woman or other creature of whatever it's holding. I used it against an Acromantula once, a huge six foot spider."

"No… It can't be… I can't have…" Aunt Petunia hung her head in apology to Vernon. "I… I'm sorry Vernon…"

"Why should you have to apologise? There's nothing wrong with doing magic. There's nothing wrong with being a witch or wizard!" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

"I… I don't want to be a freak…" His aunt whispered, barely audible, tears welling up in her eyes.

_Oh Merlin! _Harry moaned to himself._ Aunt Petunia's a witch and doesn't want to be one… No wonder she doesn't know whether to hate me or help me – she's jealous of my mother, and blames mum and me for her parents – my grandparents – dying. What an absolute mess!_

"Why doesn't Dumbledore ever tell me anything?" Harry burst out savagely. "I thought he'd said he tell me everything after… after the Mi- OW! Oh for Merlin's SAKE!"

An owl had just come though an open window and crashed into his head. It was a small owl – almost a feathery ball, and Harry recognised Pig immediately. He grabbed the note roughly and then threw Pig back through the open window. It was only when Pigwidgeon hooted merrily that Harry wondered where exactly this foul temper had come from. He had never taken his anger out on friends quite so viciously before.

"Hey Pig! Come back a second!"

The owl fluttered back hooting shrilly as if he had rather enjoyed the experience of being thrown like a tennis ball, and was looking forward to it again. Harry poured some water into a small glass and let the bird dip its beak in it. Pig flew up to his shoulder after he'd taken his fill, nibbled his ear and hooted softly, in what he must have thought was an affectionate way, and then flew through the window for a fourth time.

"Thanks Pig, I 'preciate it." Harry muttered softly as the owl disappeared.

He turned to the three Dursleys, who were looking at him dumbstruck with matching expressions of terror on their faces – almost as if they thought he was a madman who might explode at any moment. His temper flared for a second at their view of magic which was replaced by a feeling of pity – curiously, for Dudley most of all. As his emotions changed, his scar pounded in pain, and he clapped his hands to his forehead, screwing his eyes up against the agony.

Aunt Petunia was the first to find her voice. "Dudley, Harry, I want you in your rooms or out of the house: I have to talk to your father, Dudders dear."

Harry was all too happy to oblige, and, one hand still clapped to his scar, he staggered upstairs, to his room. Dudley stayed behind with his ear to the door, reminding Harry forcibly of the letter that had told him he was a wizard. His scar hurt even more.

In the small box room that was his bedroom, Harry fell onto his bed, and smothered his head in a pillow, trying to muffle the pain in some way. It didn't help one bit. There was a searing pain that started off at the scar, and shot right through the back of his head, as if there was a hot poker stuck there. He heard yelling down below, but couldn't register what was being said. Try as he might to think of something to divert his attention from the agony, he couldn't concentrate. He tried focussing on the pain, dividing it up into smaller bits, concentrating on the pain of one of them, and trying not to think of the rest, but it was no use. An image flashed into his head of a graveyard, and a cold voice saying: "Crucio!"

Tom Marvolo Riddle Sr's grave. His parents had saved him then. Along with Cedric, they had helped him escape from Voldemort. Even dead, they had continued to watch over him.

The pain faded. Harry dimly registered that he was screaming, and stopped immediately. The house was deadly quiet aside from some quiet hoots from Hedwig. He rolled over onto his back, taking his head out of the pillow, panting heavily, as if he had just run a mile at full tilt. Away from a horde of Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself.

The sound of Tekken being fired up on Dudley's Playstation interrupted the silence and murmurs could be heard faintly from downstairs. Harry stood up slowly, limbs aching as if he truly had undergone the Cruciatus curse again. Slowly and gingerly, he walked over to Hedwig's cage, and opened it. Hedwig swept out immediately, and flew to Harry, hooting reassuringly all the time. She buffeted him gently with her wing and nibbled on his ear as though she was trying to calm him down. Harry felt his cheek glisten and quickly wiped away the tear, reaching up to stroke Hedwig. She flew over to some parchment on Harry's desk, picked it up in her talons and brought it to Harry. Her meaning couldn't be clearer. Harry made a sound between a shaky laugh and a hiccough.

"What would I do without you Hedwig, eh?"

He walked over to the desk, and slumped down into the chair. Every move was an effort. He scribbled down two brief messages nearly illegibly.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_We need to talk in person. Soon, and preferably not in Privet Drive._

_Harry._

And:

_To whichever order member Hedwig finds first,_

_Please get this short message to the headmaster ASAP._

_URGENT._

_Harry._

Enclosing them in the same envelope, Harry sealed it, and tied it to Hedwig's leg.

"Thank you girl. Can you give this to either Mrs Figg, or else any other Order member, if you see them first?"

Hedwig hooted reassuringly and flew through the window Harry opened as swift as an arrow. Harry sank back on to the bed. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew it was serious. Annoyed as he might still be by Dumbledore's treatment of him, he knew Dumbledore would be the only one who could give an answer, or help. _Occlumency,_ a voice whispered to him. _You killed Sirius by not doing it, and you're going to kill more people now. _

"I haven't killed anyone!" Harry yelled.

"_YOU LOSE!"_ echoed through the wall from Dudley's room, and he suddenly registered that voices had stopped talking from down below. Harry punched the pillow on his bed, hard. His temper had flared up again, but it was a weary sort of anger now. A helpless anger. He rolled over onto his back and lay on the bed silently, trying not to think about anything. He could make out some of what his aunt and uncle were saying now, or at least his uncle.

"The boy's mad and dangerous! Listen to him. You saw what he did. It was…" Uncle Vernon roared in the distance.

Aunt Petunia was speaking more quietly, and Harry couldn't make out the words.

"It's all Potter's fault, I'm telling you. You couldn't have, it couldn't have been…" Vernon was bellowing so much, that Harry wondered if neighbours would be coming round to complain. It seemed that Aunt Petunia was thinking the same thing, as Harry heard nothing for a few minutes until:

"You can damn well tell him that then!"

Again Harry couldn't make out what Aunt Petunia said.

"I want him out of the house! I will NOT have him threatening my family. I've had enough of his abnormality. Dudders' tail, Marge being blown up, those weirdoes that destroy the living room, those damn demented whats-its, I'm telling you Petunia, I've had enough of these freaks, and their magic tricks! It's not normal!" Harry heard a door slam, and gave a wry smile as he realised that Uncle Vernon was insulting his wife all the time that he complained about magic. It was the first true, escalating fight he'd ever heard them have.

The mentioning of the blowing up of the living room had reminded Harry of the letter Pigwidgeon had delivered. He rolled over to the side of the bed, and picked it up off the floor where he had dropped it when he came in. He ripped the envelope open untidily, and revealed Ron's untidy writing, and an unusually long letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you holding up mate? Summer's been about as good as you can expect here. Dumbledore's put wards all around the Burrow, Dad, Bill and Charlie have been reinforcing them all summer. Charlie's been apparating back and forth from Romania since the killings started, and is absolutely __knackered__, but he says that he isn't going to leave us now that You-Know-Who is starting an offensive. _

_Ginny's been helping the twins with their joke shop; I think she's planning on taking over from them this year now they're gone from Hogwarts. Mum's furious, she says that she has to think of her future, and get good O__.W.L.__s. Speaking of which, Fred and George have improved their Extendable-Ears to get round imperturbable charms, and from something Mum and Dad said, the Astronomy grades are going to be graded higher because of Umbridge and her goons going after Hagrid. Hermione's over the moon – I guess it means that she'll get 50 Outstandings or however many she's taking. Although, she probably would have anyway, come to think about it. Anyway, we should be getting our results any day soon. Would be great to see you when we get them – if I have Hermione owling me about where she lost 1__ in Arithmancy, I might go insane… or worse! What if she uses the floo_

Harry grinned. There was something about the way that Ron spoke or wrote, that made the simplest thing seem funny. Plus, he knew exactly what Hermione was like; he wasn't looking forward to her finding out how badly he was sure to have done in History of Magic. Just as he finished the paragraph, Hedwig flew back through the window, and over to Harry's side, where she perched keeping Harry company. Harry stroked her while reading on.

_Mum says she's trying to persuade Dumbledore to let you come stay with us. She says that we have enough wards all over the place to keep you safe, but Dumbledore hasn't said yes yet. She's really upset because Percy is still being a prat, and she is worried about you. You know how she is. Fred and George tried to explain how many dangerous things we've done and how we're still all here, but it didn't help. __I wonder why! __Bighead Boy, as Fred and George are calling him again, is refusing to apologise, saying that Mum and Dad should have shown support for the Ministry, and that it divided the Wizarding community, or some rubbish. That guy has more screws loose than Loony Luna._

He scowled. He was being mothered, fathered or manipulated or whatever it was that Dumbledore does to him, and finds that Percy is still a git all in one paragraph.

_The Lovegoods have come around quite a bit recently. Mum and Dad are trying to help them with wards against Death Eaters, Luna's father is just as mad as she is, not surprised, seeing as he edits the Quibbler. I guess the two of them are finding it a bit lonely. Luna keeps trying to talk to me though, I don't get it. I'd have thought she'd spend most her time talking to Ginny. Ginny claims Luna has a crush on me, you got any hints on getting rid of girls? I think they're hoping you'll give them another interview sometime though, so be careful! Supposedly the Cacky Haired Crumpet__ or whatever it is, left loads of interesting signs of its existence. Probably impossible to make out footprints or something, don't ask me… But don't ask them either, or you won't be able to say a word for hours._

The next piece of the letter was written in a scrawl as untidy as Harry's own had been just minutes before, was written in different coloured ink and by the looks of it, a different quill too.

_Harry – Dad's just told me that there was __'__sizable magical __activity'__ near where you live. Is everything all right? Be careful, Dad thinks You-Know-Who might be trying to break the wards on your house. Charlie says to get your broomstick ready in case you are attacked. You can get away under your invisibility cloak if you fasten it properly. They're likely to torture the Muggles rather than kill them, so the Order should be able to help them. I'm sending Pig via the floo to Mrs Figg's and he'll fly from there. Send us a message as soon as you can if all is ok._

_Ron._

Harry swore and jumped up off his bed. His knees buckled and he landed with a thump on the floor. Pulling himself up, he hobbled over to the desk again. Hedwig followed him.

_Ron,_

_Magic was me by accident. Tried to stop it but couldn't. Don't think it was entirely the Muggles' fault, but not sure if it was Voldemort. Am okay, don't think Voldemort__Death Eaters are around, but will get my broom near in case._

_Would like to see you all soon,_

_Harry._

Attaching a note to Mrs Figg, asking her to send it to the Weasleys via floo powder, he tied it to Hedwig's leg, muttering as he did, "Sorry girl, but I need you to give this to Mrs Figg again; otherwise Ron and everyone might think I'm being attacked." Hedwig hooted comfortingly, and shot back out the window.

He limped over to his trunk, opened it, and grabbed his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak. His school books stared up at him, and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He had been home for at least three weeks now, and had barely opened his school books. He didn't have his O.W.L.s yet, and therefore couldn't be sure about what subjects he'd be allowed to take. He did have a good idea however, of the subjects he wanted to study, and knew he should have at least looked at some of the books. He hadn't even looked at the Defence Against the Dark Arts books that Remus and Sirius had given him at Christmas.

Harry retreated back to the bed, magical artefacts in tow. Sirius would have found the whole thing downstairs rather funny. The hatred of the Magic world by the Dursleys, mirrored Sirius' parents' disgust of the Muggle world. Harry was sure that if one of Sirius' parents had suddenly dropped the bombshell that they were in reality a Squib or Muggle born, that there would have been uproar. Sirius would probably have taken every chance to remind his parents of that fact too. Harry sighed. Sirius had had a worse life than him. Disagreeing with his parents' Pure-blood mania, and being sorted into Gryffindor, he had become estranged from his parents at an early age.

Moving out as soon as he could, he had a few brief years of happiness – with Harry's parents, grandparents, and their friends being an important part of his life. Then of course, Harry's parents had died, Sirius had been wrongly accused, and had wasted most of his life in Azkaban, where he had the happiness literally sucked out of him, until his escape where he was constantly on the run, and then shut away until Harry caused his death a few weeks ago. Harry had only had fourteen; nearly fifteen years with the Dursleys, and had been away for most of the last five, Sirius had had thirteen non-stop with the Dementors. Try as the Dursleys might have had to take any happiness from him, they had never been able to do it quite as successfully as Dementors.

Harry didn't care what Professor Dumbledore had said, he knew, deep down, that Sirius' death was his fault. If he had just worked harder at the Occlumency, then he wouldn't have seen Sirius in the first place. If he had just thought it through, and realised he had been having the same dream for months, but had woken up before he could have seen Sirius, he'd have realised Voldemort was trying to trick him. The same as if he had just realised that Voldemort was, as Hermione had told him, counting on Harry playing the hero. If Harry had just remembered the present Sirius had given him, then he would have been able to check if Sirius was around and not have been fooled by Kreacher. There were so many things he could, and should have done that would have saved Sirius.

On a sudden impulse, Harry sat down on the bed, and concentrated on trying to rid his mind of emotion. Hedwig returned, and went out hunting again, and Harry barely noticed.


	2. An Early Return

**Chapter 2: An Early Return**

Harry woke the next morning, not knowing when he had gone to bed, or how long he had spent clearing his mind the previous evening. Hedwig was perched in her cage asleep. His aunt was hammering on the bedroom door.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up boy!" She spoke through the door.

"Okay… I'm coming…" Harry yawned.

He got out of bed, wincing, and then crossed over to the door, and opened it a crack. The unmistakable grinning face of Tonks, with her favourite bubblegum pink hair peered over his aunt's shoulder.

"Wotcher Harry! Thought I'd come visit!" She winked. His aunt looked in a frightful temper, and stormed back downstairs. "What's up with her? Kitchen have a speck of dust?"

"Tonks! It's good to see you! Um… I'm… I'm not dressed – hang on…"

"I bet you say that to all the girls, Harry." Tonks interrupted cheerfully, giving him another wink.

"Er… right, yeah… Um… I'll be there… in a sec."

Harry went red, and shut the door quickly. He quickly pulled on some of Dudley's old jeans, and a tee-shirt, and wrenched the door back open. Tonks was standing there with an amused look on her face.

"I see what you mean about your cousin, Harry." She chuckled, as she stepped into his room, and screwed up her face as if she was trying to remember something. Her nose turned into something resembling a pig's snout. "I didn't believe you when you told me, but with a little bit of basic transfiguration, he'd make a good pig. Met him as I came in… does he always go around with his hands stuck to his bottom?"

Harry laughed. "Only when there are wizards or witches around. He ended up with a pigtail from one wizard once. A real one, not his hair- Well, I think he lives in fear of it happening again. Serves him right, too."

He hadn't meant to say that last bit. He didn't like people to know how the Dursleys had treated him. He wasn't entirely sure why, perhaps it was because, despite everything, they were the only family he had. Sure, people knew he didn't enjoy his time there. But no-one knew about the years of neglect, slavery, and use as a punch bag. No-one knew that he had lived for ten years in a cupboard under the stairs. And he wanted it to stay that way.

Tonks was looking at him with an odd look in her eyes, "What have they been doing to you Harry?"

"Nothing," Harry answered hastily, "nothing, really, they've been loads better this summer. I think they've been scared into submission or something."

Tonks continued to look at him strangely, and then said "You look half starved."

"No! I just… I haven't felt… like eating." Harry said defensively.

In truth, he hadn't even noticed he wasn't eating much. He had missed dinner altogether yesterday, and only picked at his food when he did eat.

"No… I don't suppose you would… Look, Harry, have you talked to anyone about Sir-?"

"So, why did you come?" Harry cut in, "Did Professor Dumbledore get my message?"

Tonks looked at him with a worried expression on her face, and Harry bit his front lip to hold his temper in check. He had expected this. Everyone would of course be worried about him, and all the women would want him to talk about it.

"Yes, he did." Tonks said slowly. "He sent me here with a Portkey. He's expecting us –" She looked at her watch "– well, right about now actually."

Taking a button from her pocket, she pointed her wand at it, and it swelled to the size of a Frisbee. Harry touched it, at a sign from Tonks, and she tapped it with her wand. The hook of a walking stick grabbed Harry by the navel, and a swirl of colours assailed his vision for a few seconds, until he ended up by falling face first in the middle of Dumbledore's study in Hogwarts. Tonks pulled him to his feet.

"Ah! Good morning, Harry!" The twinkling eyes, that inhabited the face of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, were looking at him from across the room. He was stroking Fawkes.

"Good morning, sir." Harry replied awkwardly.

"Right, I'll leave you two alone," Tonks interjected, "I haven't had a chat with Sir Nick for an age. Harry, Albus." She grinned at them both in turn, and strode out the door.

Dumbledore watched her go. When the door closed, he turned back to Harry once more. "So Harry, you have something you wish to discuss with me?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well, please, sit down." Dumbledore asked, taking the chair behind his desk himself.

Harry sat, and then launched into a brief description of the events yesterday – that he had got annoyed with his relatives, and then his scar hurt for an abnormally long time… with particular emphasis on the pain of his scar.

"My scar has hurt before, but never so long, and only so painfully when, well, when Voldemort is near. I didn't know what I could put in a letter, so thought it best to tell you."

Dumbledore looked at him keenly, "I wonder Harry if you could explain to me precisely how you were feeling from the time you first had this altercation with your uncle, until the time your scar hurt?"

"Well, I guess I was unhappy when I did the first piece of magic – the thundercloud. I went inside, trying to keep myself calm, in case I did any more magic, but when my uncle threatened me, it was as if I just snapped." Harry remembered. "I was furious. I pointed my wand at him, until he backed off, then at Dudley, who came into the room after hearing Uncle Vernon's voice. I think he wanted to come hear me being told off. Then it was Aunt Petunia. She said something, and I got so mad at her I couldn't think straight. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I know I did magic though. Some things smashed, and I just looked at them, and they repaired themselves.

"Then my aunt said something that sounded concerned for my safety. I was so shocked that I think I forgot to be annoyed." Harry caught Dumbledore giving a sad smile, but continued. "Nothing really happened until –" He stopped, his temper building once more. "Why didn't you tell me she could do magic? I thought you said you'd stop keeping all these secrets from me, but yet you still don't tell me that my own Aunt is a witch!"

"I gave her my word, when I first wrote to her, Harry, that I would tell no-one of her secret. It is obvious to me, that she finds the wizarding world a little, er," Dumbledore's mouth twitched slightly, "distasteful. Please, go on."

Harry glared at him. Dumbledore was just dismissing his anger in a few sentences.

"Ron's owl delivered a letter by flying straight into my head. I grabbed Pig, tore off the letter, and then threw him out the window. When I turned back to the Dursleys, they were looking at me with expressions of terror on their face, as if I was a bomb that was going to explode at any time. Again I started to get really angry. I'm not even sure why. I looked at Dudley, who was torn between holding his bottom and cowering, and suddenly I felt sorry for him. For all the Dursleys, that they are so scared of magic. Almost immediately my scar began hurting."

Dumbledore sprang up, and began pacing to and fro across the room. "You're sure Harry, quite sure, that the scar hurt immediately you found yourself feeling sorry for your cousin?"

"Yes."

"And the pain would not leave you until you thought of your parents, and how they were still protecting you?" He shot at him.

"No." The headmaster continued to pace the floor, so Harry continued. "Professor?"

Dumbledore stopped. "Yes Harry?"

"Does this mean that Voldemort was trying to possess me like he did in the Ministry?"

"Undoubtedly, Harry. The question however, is how." Dumbledore frowned. "Harry. Your aunt told you she could do magic?"

"She didn't just say she could – she disarmed me."

Dumbledore turned his head sharply to look at him. "Ah."

He said nothing else, but rather walked back to his desk, and took down a mechanical instrument that Harry remembered breaking over a month ago from a shelf. A smoky figure emerged from two twin tanks, quickly followed by another. The smoke, or vapour, or whatever it was that gave form to these two figures were linked together, and ran between the shapes like liquid in a set of pipes. The connection between the two started to flicker, and then disappeared altogether.

"Ah." Dumbledore repeated, and sighed. "It is as I feared." He sat back down behind the desk, and eyed Harry intently.

"Professor," Harry began, bluntly, "are you going to tell me what's going on, or are you going to hide things from me again?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed again. "You must understand, Harry, that I would never breach anybody's confidence unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Therefore there will be some things that I shall never reveal unless you are first told by the person involved themselves. For the moment, there may also be matters of a delicate nature, which prudence forbids me from revealing to anyone, even you. If you succeed in mastering Occlumency, then, of course, the situation may change in that respect." He held up his hand, as Harry opened his mouth. "I'm not accusing you Harry. Occlumency is a subject which is rarely mastered by wizards that have studied far beyond their N.E.W.T.s. Professor Snape is one of a very few wizards currently alive that can truly be said to have mastered it. Until you manage to reach this level, you should be aware that certain plans are best known by me and me alone.

"The fact that your Aunt has magical abilities is the main reason why I decided to send you to the Dursleys in the first place. You see, the magic in her blood, she neither wants, nor knows how to use. This magic, I bound to the blood protection ward that your mother gave you, and in doing so, increased the protection that her sister could give you. This protection extended not just to the house, but also to the area around it, meaning that as long as you stayed in Little Whinging, Voldemort and his followers would find it impossible to harm you. In fact, if you left the village, then as long as you were accompanied by Mrs Petunia Dursley, you would still be protected. It appears that Voldemort is aware of the magical energy in Mrs Dursley, and rather than trying to destroy the charm directly, is trying to cause your aunt's magic to manifest itself, and thus prevent it from being channelled into the magical ward. I had hoped that he would not invest the time and energy into doing this if he was unaware of the words of the prophecy, but it appears that you have embarrassed him by successfully escaping from him so often."

"So it doesn't matter that he never heard the prophecy then?" Harry asked bitterly.

"It matters a great deal Harry, I assure you. Because you prevented him from hearing the prophecy, he is unaware that it says only you can defeat him once and for all. A Voldemort that is no longer afraid of death would be a terrible thing. He would roam our world, torturing Muggles, attacking Ministry officials, safe in the knowledge that they could not kill him. As long as he still fears death, we can fight him."

"But if he manages to look into my memories, he may find out what the prophecy is!" Harry said.

Dumbledore sighed. "That is indeed the worry. But more worrying than that is the possibility that he may successfully possess you. That is why I shall have to insist that you resume your Occlumency as soon as possible."

"Not with Snape." Harry said forcefully.

"_Professor _Snape, Harry. I said at the end of last year that it was a mistake for me to ask Professor Snape to teach you Occlumency, and to ask you to learn Occlumency from Professor Snape. I had hoped that your Aunt's protection would be enough to stop Voldemort over the summer, and you could resume your studies in the next school term. I shall have to try to find a way for you to use magic in the holidays without finding yourself in front of the Wizengamot again.

"It is basic Legilimency to try to influence the mood of your subject. It is difficult to detect for an unskilled Occlumens and in this case, allows Voldemort to judge how strong your protection remains. Voldemort hates positive emotions, such as love, or pity, but thrives upon emotions such as fear, or fury. I believe it is his hope that if he can influence your emotions to darker ones, such as hatred, then he will not find the positive emotions present that drove him out at the Ministry. As a result, expect your emotions to fluctuate whilst you learn to protect yourself. When your aunt did magic, Voldemort suddenly found your body open to him for a few seconds. He tried to possess you, but found himself inhabiting a body that, although angry a few seconds earlier, was feeling heartfelt pity for someone. The pain that you felt was shared by both of you, you, however, doubly. Voldemort was in pain because he was feeling such foreign emotions that he despises, and you because Voldemort was attempting to possess your body, but also your body was sharing in Voldemort's pain. Once you thought about your parents, how you felt they were still with you, not only did your emotions drive Voldemort out, but you indirectly invoked the protection your mother gave you."

"I thought that as Voldemort took my blood, he can touch me. He proved that in fourth year. How can my mother's protection help me at all?" Harry said bitterly.

"I have said before, I believe, that Voldemort's biggest weakness is that he underestimates the magic he despises. Even if the protection your mother gave you was solely a matter of your blood, and that alone, Voldemort would still be unable to harm you magically without harming and draining himself. It is not solely your blood that runs through his veins. His body that was resurrected was alive in some form. His blood and yours mixed, but while his own blood remains in him, your blood still provides some weakened protection, and in fact most likely prevents him from regaining his full strength. But it is not just a matter of blood.

The charm that your mother placed upon you when she died is part of your own magic now. Just as the fact that Voldemort is the one that she gave her life to protect you from, means that the 'curse' is integrally connected with his magical aura, as it were. While you two are marked as protected and antagonist, the protection is still in effect, and can still help you defend yourself if you call it into action. The night that Voldemort was reborn, the fact that it was your parents that came out of the priori incantatem effect is almost certainly one of the things that saved you."

Harry wished he hadn't asked – he really understood very little of that, so he changed the subject. "You said I was safe in Little Whinging. Why then wasn't I even allowed to leave the grounds of the house? I needed a break from the Dursleys, but then Sn- _Professor_ Snape jumped out in front of me and ordered me back. If Voldemort couldn't harm me, then why couldn't I go for a walk?"

"Lord Voldemort is searching for ways to kill you Harry. It is imperative that you are protected as much as possible. Your aunt's protection weakens the further you are away from her, and I – the whole wizarding world – can not risk your life."

"Yes, of course – the prophecy." Harry said sarcastically.

"To the people that know you, the person you are is more important than the person in the prophecy Harry." Dumbledore said softly. "Well, with the possible exception of Professor Snape." He amended with a characteristic twitch of the mouth.

Harry scowled, and changed the subject once more. "But why is Voldemort concentrating upon trying to kill me if he doesn't know what's in the prophecy? I mean, surely he'd be better off trying to get more followers, and taking out people in positions of power?"

"You do not realise what a symbol you have become Harry. As long as the baby lives, that banished Lord Voldemort for all those years, Voldemort appears weak. What's more, after that interview you gave appeared in the Quibbler, Voldemort is seen to have failed to kill the same boy despite having all his Death Eaters with him, and engaging the boy in a duel. You have made him appear vulnerable, and given the people a figurehead to believe in. Despite his Death Eaters killing and torturing innocent people, too many wizards refuse to be cowed into following him. I would imagine that it has become a bit of a mania for him."

"But I don't want to be a hero! I never asked to be famous!" Harry yelled. "Why can't I be a normal guy, who goes to school, learns magic, and doesn't have to worry about anything except getting his homework in in time? No prophecies. No Dursleys. No scar."

"Do you really wish that Harry?" Dumbledore asked steadily, maintaining eye-contact, until Harry looked away. "Would you really rather someone else was in this position?"

"Y- No – Oh, I don't know." Harry replied exasperated, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Like it or not, Harry, you are a symbol of the resistance against Voldemort. You are the man that has evaded and thwarted Voldemort on numerous occasions. You have a choice. Do you stand up for what you believe in, and in so doing become a figurehead, a hero as it were. Or do you turn your back on the wizarding world, your fellow students, your teachers, your friends?" In response to Harry's yelling, Dumbledore's voice had become quieter – more soothing.

"You call that a choice? How can I do anything but fight Voldemort? You know I couldn't run away just to help myself, if it meant everybody else suffered." Harry scoffed.

"A boy called Tom Riddle did." Dumbledore said softly.

Harry stared at him for a few seconds. It was easy to forget that Tom Riddle, at one stage a student like him, had been at Hogwarts. That Voldemort could once have been a child. Like Harry, Voldemort had grown up in the Muggle world without parents, had come to the school alone. Like Harry, he must have trembled while putting on the sorting hat. What would have happened, if Tom Marvolo Riddle had been sorted into Gryffindor, or one of the other houses? Would Riddle have turned out the same way? Would Harry be the same person if the hat had sorted him into Slytherin?

"Professor?" Harry asked eventually. "How did you know that I wouldn't be like Tom?"

"How do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore asked politely, although Harry privately bet he already knew.

"We both grew up without our parents, in the Muggle world, where we hated our lives before Hogwarts. Tom hated the Muggles, and eventually turned into Lord Voldemort. How did you know I wouldn't do the same?"

"I didn't, Harry. I hoped that when you found out what had happened, that you would blame the Dark Arts, and set yourself against them, certainly. But did I know for sure? There is indeed nothing in the prophecy that excludes the possibility of you becoming another Dark Lord, to take Riddle's place. If I had known what was to happen when you were a child! Harry, you must believe me, I had no wish for you to grow up as you did, but once I had placed my faith in your aunt's protection, I could not interfere, for fear that they might break the charm, and remove you from their care.

"The type of hardship that the two of you have endured, can affect a person in many ways. It gave you a desire to prevent harm from coming to people, as you understood all the better what misery was. It is that selflessness and wish to help others that you inherited from your parents, as I eventually hoped you would. Tom Riddle, however, was the son of a bitter, twisted, young man, and a passionate, reckless, young woman. He stored deep grudges, that he was only too willing to take revenge upon. Once he had started upon the path to darkness, it enveloped him fully, twisting him and warping him even more, into the man he is today. His knowledge of misery helped him perform terrible tortures on the people that stood in his way. Only once you decided to care for people rather than punish them, could I be sure.

"Is there anything else you wish to ask me, or talk about, Harry?"

"Will I be returning to the Muggles for the rest of the summer?"

"I am afraid I can not answer that yet. It depends upon how much success I have, whilst trying to find a way for you to practice your Occlumency. I shall have to leave Hogwarts for most of today, while trying to get around this problem. After the recent events, Minister Fudge may be willing to cooperate more than he has for the last few years. We shall see. I would ask you to remain in Hogwarts until I return, and among adults or ghosts as much as possible, in case Voldemort attempts to access your mind once more. I am afraid, however, that as you are on your summer holidays, you may not use magic, even here."

Harry stood up. For the moment he had no more questions, he already had many answers to digest. "Thank you, Professor." He said awkwardly.

Professor Dumbledore strode over to the door, and opened it. "Perhaps you could go to the Infirmary, Harry, so that Madam Pomfrey can check your physical wellbeing after yesterday. The pain caused by the Cruciatus curse can last for weeks or longer if held for a long time, and you were put through an ordeal, even if not directly by Cruciatus."

Harry nodded, and descended the stairs into the familiar passages of Hogwarts.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

A couple of potions later, Harry left the Infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey had fussed over him for a while, pronounced him malnourished, had tried to get him to talk about 'things that might be bothering him', and then given up in disgust. She followed him down the stairs, until they met Tonks once more in the Great Hall. Pomfrey then headed out of the room, home, Harry assumed. He knew most of the teachers didn't live on the grounds during holidays. Trelawny did, but thankfully Harry hadn't met her yet today. Soon after meeting Tonks again, she complained that she was hungry, and so it was, that at half ten in the morning, Harry found himself in a familiar corridor with a picture of a bowl of fruit in front of him. Harry reached out to tickle the pear, and the door swung open.

Harry barely had time to register that there were fewer house elves in the kitchen than usual, before he was almost bowled over by a speeding mass of clothes.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "Harry Potter, sir. Dobby did not think to be seeing you for a long time. Dobby did not think you would be being in Hogwarts until the new school year. But oh! Harry Potter sir," He continued mournfully. "You is not looking well sir. You is looking thin and unwell, and in need of looking after by Dobby, sir. Can Dobby get you anything to eat, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby looked like he was wearing at least two of every piece of clothing available, two pairs of socks, two shorts, two shirts, and two jumpers – one of which used to be Ron's – and, thankfully, only two of Hermione's elf hats now. He looked torn between delight at seeing Harry, and disapproval at Harry's physical condition.

"Um, maybe just a sandwich Dobby, thank you." Harry said, slightly embarrassed.

Tonks for her part seemed amused by how Dobby had greeted Harry, and said to the elves at large: "I remember when I was at school here; you did the most amazing éclairs. You wouldn't happen to have any of them lying around the place would you?"

Several of the other house elves bowed low and one of them came forward and talked to Tonks. "Yes miss, we is having the éclairs. Would sir and miss be wanting tea too, miss?"

With a quick glance at Harry, Tonks replied in the affirmative, and seconds later they were presented with plates of sandwiches, chocolate éclairs, and other cakes, as well as a steaming pot of tea and two mugs. "I never understand how house elves manage to cook everything so well and so quickly, Harry." Tonks said, taking a bite out of the nearest éclair.

The house elves around her beamed with pride.

Harry meanwhile, had turned to Dobby. "How are you and Winky finding Hogwarts now?"

"Winky is better, sir." Dobby replied, "She is not having so much Butterbeer now, sir, and is working like a good house elf should. She is missing her old master, Harry Potter sir, but she is realising that Professor Dumbledore is being her new master now. But Dobby can not get her to wear any nicer clothes, sir." Dobby's ears drooped, and the other house elves looked uncomfortable. Then he brightened up and continued, "I is liking Hogwarts very much. There is so much work to be doing and I is doing important things that I is never doing before, sir. I is checking magical wards on Hogwarts, Harry Potter sir!"

Harry privately was unsure as to the wisdom of letting Dobby deal with anything to do with protection, after the way that Dobby had decided to try to save his life in second year, but rather than voicing his concerns, he said, "That's great Dobby!" And taking a bite of a sandwich, he then continued, "And so's this!"

The house elf beamed. "Harry Potter should be eating as much as possible, sir. But why is sir here? Where is Harry Potter's Wheezy, sir? Wheezy would be making sure Harry Potter eats, sir."

"Ron?" Harry grinned. "Ron wouldn't leave anything for me to eat, Dobby! He thinks he's too thin, and needs to fatten up and Merlin help anyone else! Ron's at home. I'm here because I needed to talk with Professor Dumbledore."

"Hey, Dobby!" Tonks interrupted. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Harry, and making sure he's okay for a while, I've just remembered something I need to do urgently. I won't be long." Harry looked at her quizzically, and saw a mischievous expression on her face, that reminded him strikingly of the Weasley twins.

"Of course miss!" Dobby squeaked happily.

"What's up Tonks?" Harry asked warily.

"Oh, nothing Harry, I've just remember I need to pick something up." She replied sweetly. "I won't be long." She repeated before walking out of the room.

"Hey, Dobby," Harry began, gulping down his cup of tea, "Would you mind going for a walk? I need some fresh air." He felt odd being surrounded by dozens of house elves, and being the only human there.

He and Dobby therefore walked out of the castle towards Harry's favourite spot by the lake. The elf was prancing around like a child and Harry laughed at his antics. Dobby chattered away non-stop about his life in Hogwarts, and Harry quickly got lost at the amount of chores that Dobby was allowed to do. Dobby seemed quite carried away by the honour of it all.

"Dobby, do you see those two dots up there? Any idea what they are?" Harry asked suddenly, pointing back towards the castle, after Dobby had finished explaining to Harry how he had been asked to magically reinforce the North Tower.

Dobby strained his eyes, "They is looking like two people on brooms Harry Potter, sir."

Harry automatically reached for his wand. "No idea who?" He asked nervously.

But Harry needn't have asked. Red flaming hair was approaching, and the owner dived out of the sky to meet him, dropping Harry's Firebolt into his waiting hands. "'Lo Harry!" Ron yelled down to him, swooping upwards once more.

"What are you doing here?" Harry yelled upwards, clutching his broom on the ground. "How did you even know I was here?"

Once again his question was answered for him, by a Comet 360 swooping down, and Tonks alighting from it. "Wotcher again Harry! We wondered where you'd got to. We headed back to the kitchen, but the elves said you went almost immediately I did. Ron said you'd have gone outside – that you'd have been sick of being cooped up – so we figured we'd use our brooms to find you."

Harry laughed. "You have any idea how corny that is?"

Tonks joined in the laughter. "Yeah, I couldn't resist. We thought you might enjoy a quick game of Quidditch anyway, which is why we brought along your broom. I still don't believe you've got a real Firebolt." She said in awe. "Do you mind if I have a go on it?"

"Sirius got her for me in third year." Harry fought a sudden choking of the voice, and welling of tears in his eyes. He had a spontaneous urge to tell Tonks she couldn't try her and to never let anyone ride her again. "Sure, you can ride her. Sirius wouldn't want it locked away somewhere, never being ridden. Just… be careful with her, please. It was the first thing Sirius ever gave me."

"Look, Harry –" Tonks began.

"Hey, you two!" Ron yelled down, swooping overhead. "Are you coming for that game of Quidditch or not?"

"You haven't asked me yet!" Harry yelled up, purposefully ignoring Tonks, and hitching a grin on his face.

"Okay," Said Ron, swooping down once more, "Fancy a game of Quidditch mate?"

His face spread into an infectious grin, and the moment of uneasiness between Harry and Tonks was gone. He dismounted with a leap, and held out his hand, taking Harry's with gusto, and bringing him towards him to slap him on the back. Holding him back at arm's length, he inspected Harry critically.

"Blimey but it's good to see you mate!" Harry couldn't help but imagine an unsaid '_alive'_ at the end of it. "You'd better watch out for Mum though, she's likely to keep you at the kitchen table for hours until you gain a bit of weight if she sees you! What have the Dursleys been doing to you?"

"Is everyone going to be asking me about how thin I look? I had more important things to think about, okay?" Harry glared.

Ron just grinned at him. "Better start putting pillows under your shirts if you ask me, might stop some of it!"

Harry didn't know if Ron was just being plain stupid, scared of him flying off the handle, or being unusually sensitive by not mentioning the obvious reason that Harry might not want to eat. It at once both annoyed him and gratified him – which of course confused him also.

Tonks laughed, "You look like you don't know whether to laugh or be insulted Harry."

Harry punched Ron lightly, and returned Ron's earlier inspection. He wondered if Ron had grown yet another inch or five in the three weeks since they had last met, or if it was simply that Ron was just so tall. Ron was wearing a non-descript white tee-shirt that had a small orange Chudley Cannons emblem on, and a pair of shorts, looking very brown and very freckly. He looked over at Dobby smiling as he spotted his old jumper.

"'Lo Dobby! Thanks for keeping an eye on The-Boy-Who-Lived here. Or have the Daily Prophet changed it again?" He grinned at Harry.

"Watch it!" Harry replied in a mock-warning voice.

His face was grinning though. If Ron was going to joke about the fact that Harry was usually the one who saw the limelight, then that was fine by Harry. He preferred the Ron that was bent double with laughter, to the one that became twisted with envy. Harry just hoped that Ron would still make jokes about it if and when he found out about the Prophecy. Not that he expected Ron to be envious at all of course, but Ron wasn't – no-one was – likely to find it a joking matter.

Dobby bowed low to Ron. "It was Dobby's pleasure Wheezy, sir. Harry Potter and his Wheezy are great wizards, and Dobby is pleased to be helping them. But Dobby should be getting back to the kitchen and doing his work, sir. If sirs and miss is needing Dobby, then they should just call Dobby's name." He clicked his fingers and disappeared with a crack.

Harry offered his Firebolt to Tonks, who swapped it for her Comet wordlessly, and kicked off the ground in awe. Harry and Ron followed, giving chase to the Firebolt. Tonks beat them for pure speed to the Quidditch pitch, closely followed by Ron, with Harry, although urging the older broom forward for all it was worth, narrowly finishing third. Tonks had a look of ecstasy on her face, and did a summersault in midair to relieve her feelings.

"Wow Harry! This is amazing! It's as if it knows what I'm thinking as soon as I think it." As if to illustrate the point, she went into a short dive, and then pulled up vertically, shooting past them. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. Each of them was remembering the first times they had ridden Harry's Firebolt. Harry had performed so well on his broom that he had inspired the entire Gryffindor Team to pull off their best moves. Ron's first time had been a little later, and they had stayed up most of the night in the boys' dormitory, discussing its amazing acceleration, and pinpoint turns.

"Right you two! Fancy a game of Chase Three?" She grinned.

Chase Three was a popular form of Quidditch played by groups of people that didn't have enough to have a full game, or even put out a half side – two Chasers, a Beater and a Keeper, using a time limit. Similar to World Cup or other variants of Muggle playground football, players played against each other, or in teams, to try and put the Quaffle past the Keeper. Once a player or team scored three goals, they sat out until the next got through and so-on, until one player or team was left on their own as the only team to not score. Then the cycle would begin again. The winner, would become the next Keeper, or elect a victorious team member to do it.

Ron sped towards the hoops, leaving Harry and Tonks to face each other in the first match off.

"Accio Quaffle!" Tonks yelled. The ball flew into her hands, and she tucked it under her arm with practiced ease. "I used to play Chaser." She winked.

"Hmm, an accomplished Chaser on a Firebolt as my opponent… Piece of cake!" Harry joked. "Hey! Keeper starts!"

Tonks had zoomed off towards the hoops, with Harry in hot pursuit. Laughing, she tossed the Quaffle to Ron, who grinned as he waited for Harry to catch her up.

"Now you know how it feels for the rest of us!" He chuckled, as he threw the Quaffle into the air between them.

Tonks got to the ball first, but only just. Harry immediately fell hoop side of her, and feinted as if to tackle her. She held her ground, and shot upwards. Harry followed, making sure to keep between the hoops and her. She forced her way inside the scoring area, but instead of trying to get past Harry, she fired off a shot. It was struck like an arrow, and forced Ron to pull off a pretty impressive save. He could only parry it however, and they both dived to catch it.

Tonks may have been on a faster broom, but Harry was the better flier, and dives were his speciality. Grabbing the Quaffle first he pulled up out of the dive, sharply, as Tonks sailed past him. As he advanced on Ron, his friend started to circle the goal posts, not giving Harry a clear shot at any of them. Trying to time the moment, Harry shot. The ball sailed past Ron, but hit the hoop, and bounced clear.

"Bad luck Harry!" Tonks yelled to him from just behind, as Ron gathered up the loose ball. "Thought you'd gone one-up there."

Harry found that his Seeker abilities served him well for the one v ones between himself and Tonks. Tonks, being a Chaser, usually had team-mates with which to work the ball, whereas Harry was used to working solo. Tonks was on the faster broom, but Harry was the better flier. Where Harry was let down however, was his shooting abilities. Tonks seemed to be able to shoot from anywhere, and despite some incredible saves from Ron, she comfortably beat Harry three – one.

"Whew! I'm impressed Harry, you pushed me pretty close. Most Seekers are rubbish with any ball bigger than the palm of their hand. Looks like it's my turn on hoops!"

"I'm scared of winning now, if I'm going to have to keep against you!" Harry laughed, turning to Ron. "We're gonna be unbeatable if you keep playing like that Ron."

The tips of Ron's ears went red with embarrassment, "Yeah, well, we know what I'm like in real matches, don't we mate?"

"Yeah, you win the Quidditch Cup, and spend the next few days the hero of the school!" Harry replied. "You're a good player, Ron – and you know it."

The rest of Ron's ears were red now, and he turned away with a gruff "Thanks." Tonks threw the Quaffle high and over the two of them, and they gave chase. Ron and Harry were very even as far as Chasing ability went, and Harry's greater speed in turning was still counter-acted by his unfamiliarity with the red ball. Tonks was a pretty good Keeper, although not as skilled as Ron, and they were deadlocked at two-all for five minutes, until Harry deflected a Ron shot into the right hoop, claiming the victory against a complaining Ron. Harry was right to be wary of Tonks' shooting ability; she scored three quick goals before Ron had even touched the ball.

"Okay – you two switch back brooms!" Ron yelled. "With butterfingers there on hoops I don't have a chance!"

"Yeah, well, learn to defend Ron." Harry shouted back, angry at his own poor performance.

He and Tonks flew towards each other and swapped brooms in mid-air. An hour later they were tired, but still playing. Harry was flying towards Ron, Quaffle under arm, when it happened. Harry's scar burned sharply, obscuring his vision. The Quaffle dropped to the ground, and he clapped his hands to his head, plummeting downwards, out of control.

"Harry!" Ron and Tonks yelled together. "Harry! Pull up!"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"He's coming round." Harry heard a relieved voice say.

Ron let out a huge sigh of relief. "Are you okay Harry? Is your scar alright?"

Harry opened his eyes. A blurry shape handed him his glasses. He put them on, revealing Tonks and Ron standing over him, looking worried. He seemed to be on a kind of comfortable camp bed, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. There was a canopy around him, with a couple of chairs and a table beside the bed. He pulled himself up slightly, and groaned. His whole body was hurting. He looked over to his left, just in time to see Dobby apparate into view, holding a vial of some foul smelling liquid.

"Harry Potter should be drinking this sir." Dobby squeaked, "It will be making him feel much better sir."

"Drink it." Tonks told him. "You'll feel better."

Harry pinched his nose, and downed the lot. It tasted a lot like one of the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him, but smelt fouler. Almost at once, he felt tingling in his limbs, and some of the pain disappeared.

"What happened?" He asked the three of them. "My scar hurt, and then I can't remember anything after that."

"You have Ron and Dobby to thank, Harry." Tonks said soberly. "You went into an out of control dive, and were barely clinging to the Firebolt. It deflected most of the jinxes I tried to slow you down with, and you looked like you were going to plough yourself. You were going at such a speed you could have really got hurt. Ron thought to call for Dobby, and he apparated right below you. He slowed you down with a net attached to this." She held up some billowing material. "He magicked a large mattress, and you crashed into it. I don't know how he slowed you down; I've never seen anything like it."

"It's called a parachute Tonks. Muggles use them if they jump out of planes if they are in danger, or for fun. Not usually at such speed." He added hastily, seeing a look of horror on Ron's face. His head was pounding, but it was an ordinary headache rather than his scar. "I feel like I've been run over by a lorry." He closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to shake out the cobwebs. "Muggle reference, sorry."

"I know what they are Harry, Dad tried to decorate the hall with pictures of them when I was eight." Ron was trying to lighten the mood, but his voice shook. "Aren't there any other potions we can give him Tonks?"

Tonks shook her head. "I can't – I was rubbish at potions… Usually knocked the damn cauldron over."

"Dobby can make Harry Potter some potions miss, just say what he needs!" Dobby squeaked.

"No Dobby –" she shook her head again "– these things need to be done by approved potions makers. Something as complex as a strong painkiller is easily mixed up with poisons. I dare say Poppy or Severus have some stored in their offices, but I don't know where they'd be. There is a dreamless sleep potion on the desk in Dumbledore's office… Dobby, get it for Harry, and then look for Professor Snape, and I'll see if Poppy is at home." Dobby made a crack and disappeared. Turning to Ron and Harry, she told them, "The dreamless sleep potion will prevent You-Know-Who from attacking you when you sleep, and you'll feel a lot better when you wake. I just hope Dumbledore manages to sort everything out with Fudge." She walked away with her hands fumbling in her robes, a worried expression on her normally cheerful face and disappeared mid-stride.

Ron sat down on one of the chairs, and looked at Harry intently. "What's happening mate?" He asked. "Tonks just appeared at the burrow, saying that you were at Hogwarts and asked if we'd like to visit. Dad, Bill, Charlie and Fred and George were all at work, and Ginny is at Dean's." He frowned. "I wanted to come of course, so Tonks went and got your Firebolt and we flooed here. But she wouldn't tell me why you're here. What happened last night? Are you okay?"

Harry slumped back down. "I'm fine."

Ron let out a shout of laughter. "Only you could say you were fine while being force fed potions and lying down on a camp bed after being ploughed into a mattress, Harry. This of course being after something that got the whole Order worried, and you had to arrange a meeting with Dumbledore."

Harry fought to contain a chuckle. "Well if you know I'm not fine, why do you ask?"

"Because I want to hear you admit it Harry. You're always saying you're fine when you're bottling up things, or having your hand cut open by a toad like Umbridge." Ron replied seriously.

"You sound like Hermione." Harry told him.

"Maybe she's having a good influence on me." Ron said, with just the smallest hint of impishness in his voice. Harry looked at him sharply, but Ron maintained his look of seriousness.

Dobby appeared with a loud crack, holding a potion in his hand. "Harry Potter's potion, sirs." He offered it to Harry, who took it. "Harry Potter should be drinking it, sir, Miss Tonks told me to give it to you."

"You have, Dobby, see." Harry replied, placing it on the ground by the bed.

"Tonks wants Harry Potter to drink it, sir. It is for sir's own good. Harry Potter must drink it sir. Dobby was given an order to make you drink it, sir, and Dobby must be a good house elf." Dobby was adamant.

"She told you to give me it Dobby, not make me drink it. You have given me it, you aren't breaking any orders. You aren't being a bad house elf." Dobby looked unconvinced. "Look. Ron will be here all the time, and if Voldemort tries to hurt me in any way, then I'll drink it, or Ron will make me drink it."

Dobby winced along with Ron at the sound of Voldemort's name, and looked torn between his orders and his loyalty for Harry, but it was the latter than won out in the end. "Okay Harry Potter sir, if sirs need me then just call Dobby's name again. Dobby must look for Professor Snape now, sirs."

"Dobby!" Harry called before the elf could disappear.

"Yes, Harry Potter sir?" The elf replied eagerly.

"When you're looking for Professor Snape… please make sure you don't find him!" The elf smiled toothily, which Harry took as a yes. "Thanks Dobby – for everything."

Ron laughed again, as Dobby left. "Okay Harry. What's up?"

"Yeah, well, if you ask me too many questions, I'm drinking this." Harry held up the vial of potion.

"Just one more, before you tell me what's going on… Do you think Dobby will get us some lunch?"


	3. Emotions and Surprises

**Chapter 3: Emotions and Surprises**

For the half hour between half twelve, and one in the afternoon, Harry once more repeated the events of the day before. He also related a certain amount of the discussion with Dumbledore, taking care to let nothing relating to the prophecy, or Riddle or his own childhood leave his mouth. If Ron thought Harry was holding something back, he didn't say so. He sat on the camp bed, facing Ron, who looked completely taken aback.

"You're joking me." Ron said, when he judged Harry had finished. "There is no way that your aunt could be a witch. No-one could be thick enough to want to be a Muggle. Barking. There's no way I can believe that."

"No joke." Harry replied. "I saw her do magic, she's no Muggle. The only reason she hasn't done it before, is Dumbledore's been using her magical energy or something. Something he got her to agree to do must have sealed it in with the protective charms he's put over me and the house."

"Barmy. Cuckoo. Completely bonkers. Why would anyone want to be a Muggle rather than a witch or wizard?"

"You'd be surprised Ron. Muggles aren't completely useless. A Muggle is the only one to have killed one of the Death Eaters that attacked him. Besides, you ever seen a Muggle television? Or a computer? I think Aunt Petunia was scared of everyone hating her for being different, so she threw the letters away. I desperately wanted to be different, and so came. I guess it is kind of the opposite of her.

Ron was still shaking his head. As if he was making a conscious decision to move on – well, as far as he could. "So. Your aunt's magic is the only thing that is protecting you in Little Whinging. And she doesn't even know how to use it. This is crazy Harry – your life is being looked after by an aunt, that didn't want to take you in, didn't want to be a witch. She hates you because of your magic, she agreed to take you so that she could have no magic any more, and your life depends both on her continuing to keep you, and that she has completely lost the ability to do magic. What's Dumbledore playing at?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess he just thought that it was an ideal solution. Keep me safe from Voldemort and stop my aunt from doing magic. And I don't know if it is the only thing or not."

"Yeah, but still. What can three Muggles do against You-Know-Who? It's thick."

"When are you going to start calling him Voldemort, Ron? Dumbledore always tells people to. Lupin does, Si- Sirius did, even Hermione does now. Voldemort wants people to be so scared of him that they don't call him by his name. Why give him what he wants?" Harry asked.

"If you had grown up hearing about the things he did, you'd be scared of saying his name too." Ron shuddered. "Dumbledore and the Order will defeat him, and then it won't matter that I'm scared stiff of You-Know-Who."

Harry glared at him. "You're not going to fight Voldemort? That was one of the main reasons for the DA. So we could protect ourselves against Voldemort."

Ron looked startled. "I never said that mate! But come on! We aren't going to try and hunt You-Know-Who down, are we? I mean, we need to protect ourselves, yeah, but what chance have any of us got to defeat You-Know-Who? If we can defend ourselves and let Dumbledore and the Order deal with him we should be fine, right?"

Harry let out a sound between a bitter laugh and a sigh. "What chance do any of us have against Voldemort…" he repeated.

"You're not thinking of going after him Harry, come on! That's mental! You'd be playing into his hands!" Ron said quickly.

"So what if I did? Not as if he's going to stop trying to kill me is it? I'm sick of defending all the time. Voldemort comes after me and my family and friends, and all I do is defend. Am I meant to do nothing until Voldemort kills me, or everyone around me that I care about dies? If you're scared of him Ron, then you ought to get away from me, because he isn't going to stop. What was it Dumbledore said? I've embarrassed him by escaping from him so often. Voldemort wants me dead Ron, and he's going to try to hurt me in any way possible. Helping me is a sure way of Voldemort wanting to kill you. You don't want to fight Voldemort, then you shouldn't remain friends with me." Harry's voice and temper was rising.

"Calm down mate! There's no way I'm leaving you to face You-Know-Who on your own. If he wants to fight you, then I'll be fighting alongside you against him." Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. "Look, Harry," He started hesitantly, "You can't blame yourself for things You-Know-Who does. It's not up to you to get rid of him."

Harry shifted on the bed, wincing visibly. "I guess I should take this potion. Tonks is right – my body will feel better after it." He bent down to pick the vial of potion up, and uncorked it.

"Wait, Harry, I'll call Dobby so you can have some lunch before you sleep. It's lunch time now anyway. You may as well just wait a few minutes." Said Ron, jumping up.

"I'm not hungry." Harry replied, shifting around on the bed, and downing the potion in one swift motion. He lay down, putting his glasses and the empty vial by the side of the bed, blinking as his eyes grew heavier.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry sat up with half opened eyes. He could tell he was indoors somewhere now, but the sleep and lack of his glasses combined, meant that he could only make out blurs. He was no longer wearing his clothes, but rather an annoyingly familiar set of pyjamas. Beside him, was a bedside cabinet and he reached over to pick up his glasses. He put them on, and saw Ron, to his slight surprise, bent over a parchment with a quill, writing something. As he levered himself into a sitting position, Ron turned to him, hearing him stir.

"Harry! Dumbledore said you'd wake soon."

"He's back then? How long was I asleep for?"

"Er, about six hours, I guess. Dobby and Tonks brought you up here between them. Madam Pomfrey did a few things with her wand as you slept. Dumbledore came back an hour ago I think."

"Did he say anything?" Harry asked.

Not only was he eager to use magic, as he was any summer, but this was the second time he'd been in the Hospital Wing in the same day, for the same thing. He'd seen enough of the place to last a lifetime anyway, and could think of a good few dozen more preferable places to spend his days.

"Not much. Just asked me what happened, and I guess I just said what Tonks had." Ron seemingly unconsciously puffed himself out a fraction. "That Dobby came, and slowed you down and everything, but he looked a bit, I dunno, preoccupied. I guess he had some trouble, you know, finding you a place to practice."

Harry groaned. "I can't spend all my time in the Hospital Wing, scared to move in case I kill myself when Voldemort tries to possess me or something."

"Tell you what," Ron grinned, "You promise to keep fighting You-Know-Who with Occlumency as much as you can, and I'll try and keep a potion of Dreamless Sleep with me. At least if you fall asleep, you can't plough yourself."

"Very funny. You should have a go trying to keep him out of your mind sometime."

"No thanks mate." Ron shuddered. "I couldn't even throw off the Imperius curse in fourth year, remember?"

Harry yawned, the potion still affecting him. "S'not a bad idea tho'."

"What is?" Ron asked.

"Getting you to carry around a stockpile of potions for me. Would mean there was no chance of me meeting Snape anyway. I nearly ran when I heard Dobby was going to go look for him."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, he still hasn't found the git yet. I tell you mate; he'd probably do anything for you. I bet the only reason he got a job at Hogwarts was because you were here."

"Don't!" Harry pleaded, "I like the elf and all, but if he followed me around for the rest of my life, I'd go mad."

Ron chortled, "Take him on as your House Elf after Hogwarts,; you've definitely got no doubts as to his loyalty."

"Oh I'd love to see Hermione's face if I did that!"

"Just try and give him seven days off a week, and pay him a thousand galleons a day and she'd be happy. You know he wouldn't take it…"

Harry smiled, and fell silent for a few seconds. The castle seemed so quiet,; the only sounds were from the birds and summer outside. To think that tonight, there would probably be more attacks on Muggles and Wizards by Voldemort, more innocents killed on a day like this. It seemed wrong, somehow, that people should be killed like this in the middle of summer of all times. Of course, the Dementors would change that. Harry shivered. It was as if Voldemort was trying to turn the whole year into one long cold hard winter.

"Anything up mate?" Ron asked, still grinning slightly.

Harry shook his head, "Just thinking, that's all." He cast around for another subject to turn to. "What were you writing?"

"Oh that! It's a letter to Hermione. Dumbledore said he'd make sure it got to her, so I thought I'd write something quickly to make sure she heard from us. In fact," He looked guilty, "I was meant to tell Dumbledore when you woke up."

"Oh. Okay." Harry said in a blank voice. "I guess I'd better find what he's going to do with me."

Ron looked at him oddly. Like six hours ago, he looked like he was teetering on saying something, but unsure as to whether he should. This time, he gave a smile, and walked out the room.

Despite himself, Harry was bothered by the fact that Dumbledore must be going out of his way to get letters to Hermione. She and her parents had gone for a summer long holiday, while the Order was placing protective charms on her house. Where they had actually gone, no-one knew except Dumbledore, and his protective charms meant that no owl could find them. But Dumbledore was still letting her know what was going on in her absence. And yet last year, Harry hadn't even been away, and still wasn't told anything. So he had Voldemort doing things to his head. So what? At least he could have actually helped if he was told this from the start.

He knew the annoyance was irrational, but he didn't really care. Dumbledore had apologised, and had promised to try and keep Harry better informed. It certainly wasn't any fault of Hermione's that she was made aware of things that were going on. He'd tell her if he could, but they hadn't even written to each other once over the holidays -– hadn't been able to. But it felt good to feel anger; it felt better than the despair he felt whenever he thought about Sirius, anyway.

Soon Dumbledore would be here, deciding Harry's life for him. It wasn't as if he had much control over his life anyway, what with the Prophecy, but it would be nice if he could control something. He couldn't control the fact he'd be a murderer or victim, he couldn't even, he thought with a stab of frustration, control what went on in his head, and now Dumbledore would doubtless reduce his choices in life even more. The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted him, and he braced himself.

It was Ron however, that appeared in the doorway. An ashen faced Ron; and Harry jumped out of bed in alarm. Ron was carrying two pieces of parchment, and looked unable to speak.

"What's happened Ron?" Harry asked urgently, sure that some calamity must have befallen the Weasley family.

Ron stood there mute, and then slowly handed Harry one of the pieces of parchment. It had Harry's name on it. Harry unrolled it slowly, dreading what was contained within. The first sentence made him stop, astonished. He glanced quickly up at Ron, who had now sat down on Harry's hospital bed. He was shaking his head, as if in disbelief. Harry read on.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic, requests your presence at the hearing of Severus Snape, Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for alleged Death Eater activity, and specifically, matters relating to May the twenty-sixth of this year. The hearing will be at 9 a.m. on the seventeenth of July. This hearing is compliant with the Wizengamot Secrecy Act of 1941, and as such, you may not discuss the details of the hearing with anyone except for your fellow students, who have also been asked to attend: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger; and Professor Albus Dumbledore, who, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is aware of the circumstances._

_You are not being investigated for any crime, but the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones, believes you may have important information as regards the accused's innocence or guilt. You are expected to be accompanied to the Ministry by your guardians, where you will then be informed of the courtroom in use. It is important for you to realise that because of the aforementioned Wizengamot Secrecy Act, your guardians may not accompany you into the courtroom itself._

_Wishing you a good day,  
__Acrolyn Briant,  
__Undersecretary to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement,  
__Ministry of Magic._

Harry looked up, and stared at Ron. "Snape?"

"I told Hermione he was a Death Eater!" Ron said vehemently. "I told her, but she wouldn't listen. I mean, it makes sense. Your scar has always hurt more after Occlumency sessions with Snape and-"

"Yeah…" Harry interrupted, having heard it all before. "I wouldn't be surprised by it, but…"

"But what?" Ron asked.

"Well… What exactly did he do on the twenty-sixth that meant he was helping Voldemort? I mean, the fact that he was such an unhelpful git meant that we went to the Ministry all right, but he did tell the Order where we had gone. If he was working for Voldemort, why would he have said anything?"

"I guess." Ron agreed, disgruntled, "I dunno, he might have tried to wait as long as possible, so it looked like he was helping the Order, but that they would arrive too late."

"Maybe," Harry acknowledged, "but I think he's just an evil slime ball that wants me dead regardless of Voldemort. Dumbledore trusts him not to be a Death Eater, and last time I didn't trust Dumbledore's judgement…" He trailed off, and looked away, out a window.

"Harry." Ron said forcefully. "You can't blame yourself. You didn't kill Sirius. It wasn't your fault."

Harry stood up, and walked away from Ron, gazing out of the window. He couldn't help but remember how he and Hermione had gone back through time in this very room, in order to save Sirius from the Dementor's Kiss. How they had rescued Buckbeak, and led Sirius to freedom, only for Harry himself to have led him to his doom, just two years later. How could Ron know anything about the guilt that he felt? How could Ron, who has always had a family, even begin to understand the loneliness that came with losing your parents and your godfather before you could even appreciate that they were there for you at all?

Harry counted up the people dead so far because of him, his parents, Sirius, Cedric, even Crouch. Not to mention people like Mr Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else that had nearly ended up the same way because of him. And then there were all the people who had died or been tortured recently, because Harry revealed Voldemort's return, and Voldemort was trying to scare people into submission. Would it have been better if Harry hadn't been so public about it? Suddenly, he had an urge to pick up a glass, or some other delicate object and throw it at the nearest wall. Or maybe go back to the Dursleys and pick a fight with Dudley. He might lose, but he didn't really care. He just wanted to hit something, or someone, as hard as he could. Pain would be just as welcome.

He was still fifteen! Why should he have to have so many people's deaths and injuries on his conscience? For Merlin's sake, he couldn't even handle going on a date with someone! And yet… he couldn't muster the strength to break the window in front of him into a thousand pieces. Or throw the vase standing on the windowsill viciously at a wall, destroying the delicate flowers contained within. Not even to curse Malfoy if he were here. Or to try and explain how he felt to anyone, even Ron or Hermione. Even Sirius, if he were here now.

He sensed, rather than heard Ron behind him. "Harry," his friend began, "I don't have a clue what you're feeling, or thinking, or planning to do, but I'm here for you if you need me. Even if you just want someone to yell at." Harry heard the grimace on Ron's face, rather than saw it.

Harry sighed, but said nothing. Rather than reassuring Harry, it compounded everything. Why couldn't Ron see that he should distance himself from Harry? The more Ron helped Harry, the more likely it was that Voldemort would target him and his family. If Harry had the death of Weasleys on top of everything else piling up over him- After everything they had done since first year for him, they and Hermione were the closest things to family he had left. And anyone close, or family, to Harry ended up dead.

A lump appeared in Harry's throat, and he swallowed it down repeatedly. He didn't deserve to be part of the Weasley family, no matter how they treated him. Something as impure as him, a murderer in the making, the cause of so much tragedy, had no place in such an inherently good family as the Weasleys. Even Percy, the idiot that didn't appreciate what he had, deserved to be there more than Harry. He may have said and done things he shouldn't, but at least he hadn't directly caused people to die.

"You do know that, right?" Ron asked.

Harry stared at the window, looking not through it any more, but focussing on his reflection instead. His own eyes stared back at him. He had Lily's eyes… He could see them now, his mother's eyes. And his father's, and Cedric's, and Sirius' all of them were staring at him, blaming him. Years of pain and suffering, and the years of joy that had been taken away from them, all concentrated in the eyes of his reflection, glared at their owner, accusing him. Harry looked away suddenly, and paced back to his bed, sat down, and then just a few seconds later stood up again and paced once more, finding himself on a chair this time.

Ron stood there in helpless silence, watching Harry's musical chairs for a minute or two. "I'd better find Dumbledore." He whispered finally, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry didn't watch him go. He placed his head in his hands, messing up his hair even further, and then looked around glumly. He sighed, and looked down at his knees. Fixing a point on his pyjamas he stared at it, allowing it to blur his vision, and subsequently his thoughts. He didn't want to think. If he did, he only thought of Sirius, or the prophecy, or-

Harry sighed again, deeper if anything. Even thinking of not thinking moved onto those subjects. Harry gave a very small wry smile, before standing up and pacing, concentrating on putting one foot after the other.

There was a knock on the door. Rather than speaking, Harry walked to the door and opened it. Dumbledore was standing there, looking rather sombre. Ron was standing with him.

"May we come in?" Dumbledore asked, unnecessarily, Harry thought.

Harry just gave a half hearted gesture and returned to the window, letting Ron and Dumbledore follow him. He felt empty, and drained, and didn't have strength for the conversation that was before him. He didn't have the strength for anything. All he wanted to do was to let the world pass him by and go on without him. But that couldn't happen, could it? The world needed him to kill Voldemort, and they couldn't do it themselves.

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice began calmly, "Mr Weasley here tells me that you have both received a summons from the Wizengamot for Professor Snape's hearing. I myself have been delivered one that I am bound to pass on to Miss Granger."

Harry nodded his head, still looking down into the castle grounds.

"Is he a Death Eater?" Ron asked, quickly.

"I do not believe so, Mr Weasley. The Minister, however, believes differently it seems."

"Why must we be there?" Harry said in a hollow voice. They were the first words he had said in minutes, and he felt as if he was drudging them up from some hard to reach place. "What have we got to do with any of it?"

"Fudge believes that Professor Snape had something to do with the night he saw Voldemort return. At least, that is what he is claiming for this trial. He did not want you there, but Madam Bones insisted. She may want you to verify or deny Cornelius' version of events that night."

"They want me to…" Harry started in alarm. "I am not talking about… that night in front of the Wizengamot."

"I have so far refused to allow anyone from the Ministry to interview any of you, but I am afraid I cannot prevent the Wizengamot asking for evidence. I have Madam Bones' word that she will try to avoid pressing you on details."

"And what about Sirius?" Harry yelled suddenly, his hollow insides filling with emotion once more. "He was not a Death Eater! I won't let them call him one."

"We can't clear Sirius' name in a trial to convict another man, Harry. We will clear him, I promise, but it will not be easy while Cornelius Fudge is still Minister. We must wait, or risk his name never being cleared." Dumbledore was speaking calmly, reasonably, but Harry didn't care what he had to say.

"I will not talk as if Sirius was a Death Eater. I don't care what they do, or say, I won't go along with them." He spoke through gritted teeth.

His reflection was staring back at him, a drop of moisture glistening on his right cheek. He made a show of flattening his untidy hair and then rubbed his face, removing the tear.

"Harry, we cannot risk another innocent man being put in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. Sirius of all people would not have wanted that."

How dare Dumbledore try and use Sirius against him, Harry wondered furiously.

"Snape deserves it – Sirius would have told you that." He spat at the grounds below.

"Professor Snape is innocent, Harry. He has let an old schoolboy grudge linger, but that crime is not enough to send him to Azkaban." There was a steely note in his voice, which Harry had not heard addressed to him before, and he jerked at it.

It would be so easy to help Fudge convict Snape. Be so easy to get that greasy haired _Snivellus_ chucked into Azkaban, where he couldn't torment Harry's life anymore. Suddenly, words that Dumbledore had said over a year ago came unbidden into Harry's head.

_Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory._

Harry stiffened slightly. "What do they claim Sn- Professor Snape did, Professor?"

"The Minister is refusing to give specific details as of yet I am afraid. I imagine they will try to claim that Professor Snape lured you to the Ministry, but how I can not say."

"Fine. I won't help them convict him, but I will not lie about Sirius." Harry turned around and faced Dumbledore, glaring straight at his eyes.

It was a gradual thing. The fury Harry felt against the world started to turn to a rage against Dumbledore. He felt like an animal, coiling himself to spring at Dumbledore and sink his fangs into the man. The longer he glared, the stronger the feeling became, until comprehension dawned upon him. He looked away, a sick feeling in his stomach. He still couldn't defend himself against Voldemort's attacks.

"Occlumency." Harry mumbled the word.

Ron looked slightly bemused at what was going on, and so far had remained a relative spectator. Dumbledore however, immediately understood.

"I have talked to Minister Fudge, Harry, and he has refused to allow you dispensation to practice magic. I could not, of course, explain the exact reasons why it is necessary, and it is unfortunate, I believe, that the request coincided with the arrest and pending trial of one of my most senior teachers."

Harry felt a leaden feeling in his stomach. "So I'm stuck then. I can't learn to defend myself at all against Voldemort? So eventually he'll possess me, and then that's that?" A defeatist feeling flooded through Harry that he hadn't felt since the years he was beaten up by Dudley at school. "So what now? I go back to the Dursleys, and hope my aunt does no more magic?"

"I said that the Minister refused to allow you dispensation to use magic, not that you couldn't use it Harry." There was a serious note in Dumbledore's voice. "Occlumency is now more important than ever for you to learn. We can not risk your return to Privet Drive at this time. While the remaining charms should still hold against physical assaults, they will not protect you against assaults through your scar, as we have found out. Even at Hogwarts, there is inadequate protection."

"So I'm doomed whatever then?" Harry gave a mirthless chuckle.

"Harry, there is a place you can use magic without the Ministry knowing." Dumbledore's voice was urgent now. "But you may not like it."

"Great." Harry replied sardonically. "Where?"

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

Harry froze. Taking a long shaky breath, he closed his eyes. He swallowed, and then whispered the two word question. "Why there?"

"It is the safest place the Order has. And it is under the Fidelius charm. The charm will prevent the Ministry from knowing who has used magic, what type of magic they used, and where they performed it. The most that they will be aware of is that somebody somewhere has caused their underage magic detection systems to react. Whether it is in Inverness or Wrexham, they will have no idea. It is doubtful that they will even realise that underage magic has been performed at all."

"Wait a minute!" Ron cried indignantly. "Are you saying we could have used magic last summer and at Christmas, and you didn't tell us?"

"Yes, Mr Weasley, I am." Dumbledore replied in an amused tone. "I thought it best for you to obey the law for underage wizardry at that moment in time. Especially given the circumstances of the last hearing Harry had to attend."

Harry would ordinarily have been amused himself at Ron's outburst, but he couldn't muster the energy to be anything other than unenthusiastic at the thought of returning to Sirius' home. He'd rather go back to Privet Drive. "I don't want to go back there." He murmured.

"I am afraid you must, Harry. It is the only way you can learn to defend yourself and prevent these attacks of Voldemort's."

Harry's flinch at the word 'must' was almost as noticeable as Ron's whenever he heard Voldemort's name. "Not much of a choice is there?" he said bitterly.

"I am sorry Harry, but as you say, we have no choice." Dumbledore may have sounded genuinely apologetic, but it didn't make it any easier for Harry to bear.

"When do I leave the Dursleys?"

Somewhere deep inside, Harry registered how strange it was for him to be unwilling to leave Privet Drive. It was usually the thing that he waited for desperately the whole of the summer, and here he was reluctant to leave when July had barely started. Since he had lost Sirius, it seemed his world really had been turned upside down.

"As soon as possible. It would be best if you could go this evening, assuming Madam Pomfrey releases you. I have already talked to Remus, and he and Tonks have both insisted upon being there tonight when you arrive. In fact, I believe Tonks is still around here, hoping to escort you there herself."

"Well you won't be there alone mate." Ron said, to a flash of irritation from Harry. Completely oblivious, Ron continued, "At the very least, I can floo in and see you. And we can get a head start on the DA, you can teach me some of the stuff you've got planned." He stopped, as if struck by an unpleasant thought, and glanced at Dumbledore. "We will still be doing the DA now Umbridge is gone won't we?"

"I certainly have no objections, and I am sure the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher won't either." Dumbledore said with a smile. "If Harry wishes to continue to organise the group, then I believe there will be no difficulties."

Harry was struck by a strange feeling of both anticipation and dread. It would be fair to say that the DA had pulled him through the time with Umbridge at Hogwarts last year, but the last thing he wanted to do was to place even more people in danger by meeting with them regularly. And now that the term had finished, he had the same fear of teaching that he had had when Hermione first suggested the idea.

"I don't know." He said slowly. "Hermione is the one that organised it all anyway. I guess I'll think about it."

"Perfectly understandable." Dumbledore said briskly. "I would ask the two of you however, to refrain from, er, overuse of magic while at Grimmauld Place, and to try to perform magic only when Order members are around. There is a reason for the laws being in place." His beard twitched.

Both boys nodded, although Harry barely inclined his head.

"Good. Now then, I hope the two of you will stay and have dinner here in an hour or two. Your friend Dobby practically begged me to make you stay." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and Ron gave a snort of laughter. Even Harry gave a reluctant grin.

"'Course we will!" Ron said, to the same small nod of assent from Harry. "Um, could we go up into Gryffindor Tower, sir, if Harry wants to?" He shot a quick look at Harry, who said nothing.

"Certainly you may. I am sure that the Fat Lady will be delighted to see some of her students again. The password is _invalesco animi_. I believe dinner will be at eight. I am afraid I must take my leave for the moment; I have some protective charms to cast." With that, Dumbledore left the room.

"Come on, Harry, I'll give you a game of Wizard's Chess." Ron said, eagerly. "You could do with getting out of the hospital wing."

"Could he, Mr Weasley? I think I will be the judge of that!" The fussy voice of Madam Pomfrey interrupted from the doorway. "Back in here again are you? When will you students realise that Quidditch is a very dangerous game?" She tutted loudly, and then shoed Ron out of the way, in order to fuss around Harry's bed.

"Well, a strengthening solution and you should be physically well again in no time. But you are mentally drained. I would suggest you make sure you don't bottle up emotions over the next few weeks Mr Potter. Your mental state couldn't take it." She lectured sternly.

"It's quite difficult to stop yourself feeling." Harry muttered. _I've tried._ He added to himself.

"Yes it is." Madam Pomfrey agreed, "And it is a very bad thing to try to do it too. You ought to talk to people about the feelings, not hide them away Mr Potter."

Harry groaned, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "Fine. Can I go now then?"

"Drink these." Madam Pomfrey replied, pushing two vials into his hands. "Come on, quickly."

Harry gulped them down, feeling a languid warmth spreading throughout his body. As a whole, he seemed to perk up. He felt a bit more awake, and far less weary.

"I… Thanks Madam Pomfrey. I'm sorry, you know, for interrupting your summer and all." Harry said, slightly sheepishly.

"It's quite alright. Now. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you some Dreamless Sleep potion for you to take home. Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

"Well…"

"I need to know Mr Potter; I cannot simply give out potions for no reason. I am your Healer, I need to know whether you need it or not." She continued, with the smallest bite of impatience.

Harry glanced at Ron, who had returned to his parchment and was continuing the letter at a fair pace. He supposed that Dumbledore couldn't have told Madam Pomfrey why he needed the potion, which was why she was asking.

"Yeah. I have." He admitted. "Just, well, nightmares about… things… you know."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "You really need to talk about this kind of thing you know."

"How do you think Professor Dumbledore knows?" Harry said, indignantly.

"Mm… Well, you can go. Just make sure you don't do anything dangerous. I do not want to hear that you are back here for a third time today! Here." She said, handing Harry a bottle. "This contains the Dreamless Sleep potion. Try not to use it unless you really have to. You can start to rely upon it in order to sleep at all, and that is certainly not good for you. Try and avoid putting yourself under any unnecessary emotional stress."

Harry stood up, and hesitated. "Where's my Firebolt, Ron?" He asked, with just a trace of panic.

Ron looked up from his quill. "It's under the bed with my Cleansweep. You're done then?" He asked, as Madam Pomfrey left the room.

"Yes, we're done Mr Weasley," She said from the corridor, "but I absolutely forbid you to use those brooms for at least a week!"

"Good." Ron said vaguely. "Give me a second Harry, and I'll just finish this, then I can give it to Dumbledore at dinner."

"Um, say hi from me won't you?" Harry said quickly.

Harry grabbed his clothes and got out of the hospital wing pyjamas as quickly as he could, before surveying the damage done to his Firebolt. All in all it was in pretty good shape. A few bent twigs, a couple of minor scuffs on the handle, but nothing that his Broomstick Servicing Kit wouldn't fix. The charms upon it that had deflected Tonks' jinxes were also strong enough to protect against ploughing it seemed. Harry let out a sigh of relief – there was nothing, now more than ever, more precious to him than this broomstick.

"Okay, done." Ron called across the room after a few minutes. He rolled up the parchment, holding his hand out for his broom.

As they walked the familiar passageways towards the Gryffindor common room, Harry couldn't help but notice how silent everything seemed. The portraits were conversing as normal, but the hustle and bustle that usually existed during the term time was gone. He mentioned it to Ron.

"Even in third year it was never this quiet, and there were what, five students here at Christmas then? It feels wrong, I dunno, sinister even."

"You're too on edge Harry. Don't blame you mind, but it just feels strange as we haven't been here on our own before." Ron said confidently, "I'm surprised we haven't seen Peeves yet though, I expected him to be annoying us non-stop today.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sad not to have seen him yet." Harry said darkly. "It's just, I always kinda felt like Hogwarts was home, you know. That doing magic was the thing I should be doing and I belonged here. But it feels deserted now, not home."

"You're as good as a Weasley mate," Ron assured him, "and better than some. The Burrow's as good as a home for you if you want. I think Mum would adopt you if she could to be honest. If you want a family, then we're here for you. Hermione too, you know."

"Thanks." Harry replied, sounding as sincere as he could, but his stomach had plummeted. "Um, have you written to Hermione much?"

"Yeah, as much as I can, I've been getting Dad or someone to give them to Dumbledore to send. She always asks about you. It's been a nightmare with the two of you, you know?" Ron said cheerfully, "One that you can only reach through Dumbledore, and the other that you can't write to regularly and only when there's added security, or else the owls will be intercepted. It's been bad enough with the twins not around much anymore and Ginny either helping them, or talking to Dean." He looked most unimpressed. "It'll be good to have someone sane to talk to occasionally when you're at Headquarters."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry but I'd rather I wasn't going there." Harry replied irritably.

"It can't be worse than the Muggles mate," Ron said bracingly, "and you will have some idea of what's happening at least."

"I don't care Ron; I just don't want to go back there. See the elf heads, the snake door handles, Sirius' mother's portrait, and if I see Kreacher…" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"But isn't it worth it?" Ron asked, a slightly hurt look on his face. "Being able to defend yourself, being able to use magic, being able to see _us_ – isn't that worth something?"

"It's Sirius' house Ron. How do you think I feel about going back there?" Harry's temper rose.

"Which would you rather have? Life in a Muggle house with relatives that don't like you, and being attacked by You-Know-Who all day, or else living in your Godfather's old house, learning to defend yourself, and being able to see friends all the time? You told me that Sirius wanted you to stay with him in third year. He wanted you there all last year, are you going to tell me he wouldn't want you in his house now, when you need it? Hermione will have to come back for the hearing; both of us can visit and give you a hand. In fact, I'm betting even Fred and George will want to help their primary investor. Everyone will be there for you." Ron's ears were going red.

"Damn it Ron!" Harry yelled. "Why can't you guys just leave me alone? I'm going to get you killed if you stay friends with me. Voldemort's going to go after you one by one to get at me. Why can't you forget you ever knew me?" Ron stopped walking, and was as still as a statue. Harry however nearly broke into a run; he hopped onto his Firebolt, and yelled without looking back, "I'll see you in the common room."

Harry flew through the corridors at breakneck speed, turning sharply at the corners, and hearing portraits complaining far behind. He took a hand off his broom in order to wipe his face, furious at the tears. Why couldn't Ron see that going to a Grimmauld Place without Sirius would remind him of just why Sirius was dead? Why couldn't Ron see that everyone close to Harry got killed? How… How would he, Harry, react if Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny got killed next? He slowed down in front of the Fat Lady's portrait hole. He wouldn't be able to take it – he didn't know what he'd do.

The Fat Lady was chatting to Violet and another of her friends when Harry dismounted. Looking up she looked highly irritated. "What are you doing riding a broom indoors? What are you doing in Hogwarts at all! It's the holidays!"

"Invalesco animi." Harry replied curtly, head still overflowing with emotion.

The portrait looked him up and down, and in a somewhat calmer tone, nodded and replied, "Indeed dear." She swung open, granting access to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry looked around. The common room was completely tidy, devoid of the normal Gryffindor bits and pieces that usually had accumulated by this time of the day. It was similar to the early morning appearance, when the house elves had just finished tidying the room. Or, Dobby alone rather, as it was now. Strangely, although it was the middle of summer, a magical fire was roaring in the grate. He supposed Dobby must have set it alight on the off chance that Harry would want to come up here.

Automatically, Harry sat in his favourite fireside chair, but his already hot head, was now reaching boiling point. He jumped back up again and paced around, as in the hospital wing. He put a hand up, and felt his still slightly moist face, and a feeling of self-fury swelled up inside him.

"Get a grip!" He yelled aloud, thumping a nearby wall with the palm of his hand. "Here you are going to pieces when the most dangerous murderer in the world is after you. He's going to just waltz into your mind at the moment Harry!"

He ran up to the – now sixth year – boys' dormitory. It felt bare somehow, although each bed was as finely dressed as ever. Harry ducked into the toilets and dunked his head into a basin of freezing cold water. His head rose back up with a shudder, but he forced it under once more.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry came back down to the common room, fifteen minutes later, Ron still wasn't there. He felt somehow both pleased and annoyed with himself. If he had succeeded in pushing Ron away, then he and the Weasleys would be safer, he rationalised, but surely he could have approached it better. And there was a little voice in his head that was telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that he should let his friends choose.

"I know what they'd choose." He growled softly, "The wrong option." Strangely, and to no small extent, to his annoyance, a warm feeling spread inside of him.

Ron chose this moment to cautiously step through the door. "Harry?" He asked cautiously.

Harry gave a wary acknowledgement.

"You still want that game of wizard's chess?" He held up a couple of cases. "Dumbledore left them for us."

Harry helped Ron set the board up, grinning despite himself at the chess pieces. The pieces weren't black and white, but rather pink and a warm yellow. And rather than being austere, the pieces themselves had a definitely soft feel of fluffiness to them. Rather than bladed weapons, each piece held a wand. Ron was staring at them, for the first time in his life, Harry guessed, feeling unsure before a game of chess.

"It's just wizard's chess Ron, you'll still beat me." Harry laughed.

Ron seemed to perk up slightly, but at Harry's tone of voice rather than the chessboard, Harry guessed, kicking himself internally.

"Right then, lets get started, er… who goes first do you think, pink or yellow?" Ron asked aloud.

The pink pieces in front of him turned towards him and shot white sparks into the air. "I guess that means I go first then." Ron muttered. "Alright then. Pawn to D4."

The first unusual thing happened when Ron took Harry's pawn with his own. Ron's piece invaded Harry's square as normal, but rather than a scuffle, the two pieces had a mini wizard's duel. They both squeaked out spells and sent them at each other, deflecting them with shields that they threw up themselves.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron's pawn cried, and Harry's pawn's wand went flying to the side of the board. "Stupefy!" And then Ron's pawn was dragging Harry's off the board next to the wand. It then proceeded to create rope bonds and tie the pawn up.

Ron and Harry stared at each other, impressed. "That was pretty cool!" Ron said, in an awed voice. Harry agreed.

The best thing about it all, Harry thought, was that each duel was different. Some pieces battled for longer than others, some finished their opponent with an incapacitating move, others with a deadly one. When Ron's Queen killed one of his pawns in a flash of green light, Harry barely even winced, he was so engrossed in the whole thing, and when one of his knights managed to take Ron's Queen out with a leg-locker curse, followed by a cutting curse, Harry was spellbound.

Whether it was because each player was dumbstruck by the pieces, Ron was still unsure both about them, and him, or that he had just played a blinder, Harry didn't know, but at the end, he had a bishop and a king left, and Ron a knight with his king. He took the knight with his bishop, who was in turn taken by the king, and they had a stalemate. Each king saluted to each other, and to both of the players, and then set about reviving (or resurrecting) their pieces and ordering them back into their respective cases.

"That was amazing!" Ron whispered. "What I wouldn't give for a set of these."

"Great game." Harry grinned, suddenly not wanting to try to get Ron to leave him be after all.

Their talk, as they walked to join Dumbledore at dinner, was not one that centred about Sirius, or Grimmauld Place, or Voldemort, but on the game of chess they had just had. Ron was betting that Dumbledore himself had created the chess set, and that they hadn't a hope of finding one they could buy. Harry didn't care, he swore he would find one somewhere.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dinner was in the Great Hall as usual, but they ate at the staff table, rather than one of the long house tables that took up most of the hall. Or rather, they ate at a small table in the normal position of the staff table. Tonks and Hagrid were already sitting down, as were Professors Sprout, Sinistra and Trelawney when they walked in.

"Hagrid!" Ron and Harry called as one.

"'Ello you two!" Hagrid smiled behind his beard. "Thought yeh might have come down to visit me today yeh know? All tha' time yeh had here on yeh own?" Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Hagrid continued, "I'm only jokin' Harry, don't yeh worry. I heard what happened. Dang'rous game, Quidditch." He added sagely, but with a wink to Harry.

"Ah yes." Professor Trelawny began in her misty voice as Ron and Harry took their seats opposite Hagrid, "I believe your troubles are only just beginning my dears. Soon Quidditch accidents will be the least of your troubles. Still, it is sometimes best not to be forewarned. When you have seen as I have seen, you learn that foreknowledge can be a terrible as well as wondrous gift. I sense there are dark times ahead of you both, and you must be ever alert if you are to avoid the trappings of fate."

"Um, yeah," Harry shared a glance with Ron, "good evening Professors, evening Tonks." Harry was surprised not to see more surprise on the faces of his Professors, as he was sure Dumbledore would not have explained the reasons for two students being in Hogwarts at this moment.

"Evening!" Tonks greeted.

Professor Sprout smiled, and answered in kind. Harry had rarely said anything to her in all his previous years, being neither top nor bottom of the class nor a particular troublemaker. Professor Sinistra nodded to them, and then continued talking to Professor Sprout. Harry was more than slightly relieved – he had barely even heard Professor Sinistra talk outside of lessons.

Ron and Harry immediately started questioning Hagrid. "How have you been?" They asked in unison, and then grinned at each other.

"Oh, I've been alrigh'," Hagrid replied casually, "been lookin' after the grounds, yeh know. Those dratted centaurs are still trying to make life difficult mind. I dunno how the headmaster rescued that Umbridge woman from them, but they're still as stubborn as ever. They still won' even so much as allow Firenze's name to be mentioned. I told 'em they were makin' a mistake, but would they listen ter me? Ruddy mules. 'Therwise the forest's been a bit quiet really." He gave them such a meaningful look, it was a wonder the others at the table didn't get suspicious.

"Where is Firenze?" Harry asked curiously.

"Ah, Professor Firenze, like myself, often prefers to eat in solitude. Solitude is one of the necessary burdens of the knowledge of Divination." Trelawny responded.

"It's been hard on him, see, the loss of 'is herd." Hagrid explained. "Centaurs are communal creatures, like humans, but they prefer to be amon' their own kind. The only ones that can understan' them stargazers are themselves anyway, I think. He's a nice bloke, but this kinda meal isn't 'is scene."

Before Harry could reply, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Dumbledore strode in. "It appears I am the last one to arrive!" He said jovially, "You all put me to shame with your promptness."

As soon as Dumbledore took his seat, dishes and their contents appeared on the table. Harry dove for the steak and kidney pie, and loaded some Irish stew onto his plate for good measure. For some reason, maybe because the good humour of his dinner companions was contagious, Harry felt hungry.

"So, Harry, any idea of the subjects you'll be takin' next year then?" Hagrid asked, as they got down to the important business of eating.

"Depends on my results," Harry groaned. "I can't take Potions if I don't get an Outstanding, and that isn't likely."

"Want to keep takin' Potions do yeh?" Hagrid said surprised. "Thought yeh told me you were goin' to give it up."

"Can't if I want to become an Auror, 'least that's what Professor McGonagall said."

"I didn't take Potions N.E.W.T.s." Tonks interrupted. "I'm no great shakes at the subject, but they took me on anyway, as my other grades were okay. 'Course, it might have helped that I'm a metamorphmagus, but you're the 'Boy-Who-Lived', I'm guessing that might count for something!"

A flash of relief and hope passed through Harry. He hadn't thought that the fact that Voldemort had failed to kill him might help his job prospects. Perhaps in this instance being treated differently might be a blessing if he couldn't do Potions.

"So you mean there's still a hope if I messed up my Potions exam?"

"Yeah, definitely, though a potions N.E.W.T. would help. You still have to do some Potions work in the Auror training anyway, so you'd find it easier if you kept it after O.W.L.s."

"What did you get for your N.E.W.T.s Tonks?" Ron asked curiously.

"Oh, Os in Defence, Advanced Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, and Muggle Studies, and Es in Herbology and Arithmancy."

"But you only have to do five N.E.W.T.s!" Ron said, surprised, "Why'd you do seven?"

"Wanted to." Tonks grinned. "I figured the more I knew the better. I wanted to do Advanced Defence of course, so that didn't clash with anything. I couldn't make my mind up between Muggle Studies and Arithmancy, so I did them both."

"Why didn't Advanced Defence clash?" Harry asked. "I hadn't heard of it actually, do they still do it?"

Tonks looked surprised. "It's taught outside of normal lessons. I had it a couple of days a week straight after my last class. I guess it might depend on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as to whether you can take it or not. When I was here, Professor Keane always did it. I guess you'll find out nearer the time."

Harry looked across at Dumbledore, but he was in animated conversation with Professor Sinistra.

"Yeah," Hagrid agreed, "It always depen's on the teacher. Some don' do it. Umbridge refused teh. Professor Lupin did though."

"What kind of things does it cover?" Harry asked eagerly.

"'Depends. Sometimes it's just advanced jinxes, and defensive shields, there's usually some defensive charm work, so you can prevent dark wizards from entering a building say, it's usually up to the teacher. You don't learn for a set exam, the exam is set for the things you learn, if you get what I mean."

"Kind of…" Harry replied, before bursting into another question. "What kind of things did you do?"

Harry spent most of the meal asking questions about the defensive classes, and Tonks and Hagrid did their best to answer them. Harry was so engrossed in the subject, that he barely noticed that Ron had hardly said a word the whole time.

By the time the last dish had been cleaned (including desserts of treacle tart, apple crumble, and spotted dick), the sky above had dimmed slightly, and it was approaching ten. Professor Trelawny was the first to leave, quickly followed by Professor Sprout and Sinistra, who left together, leaving the members of the Order and Harry and Ron on their own.

"Now," Dumbledore began, "As Harry and I agreed earlier, it is best for Harry to arrive in Grimmauld Place tonight. Therefore, Harry, I suggest that you return to Privet Drive, and then take a Portkey from there, with your things. Get some sleep tonight, and I shall see you in the morning. If you could go with him to ensure everything goes smoothly Tonks?"

"I'd be delighted." Tonks beamed.

Harry's stomach plummeted once more. He had pushed the impending change of house to the back of his mind during the chess game and dinner, but now the emotions were rushing back. He felt like an emotional yoyo, and he was starting to feel very tired.

"Mr Weasley," The headmaster continued, "I am quite aware that you and your family may wish to visit Harry soon and often. I must beg however, that you are content to wait a couple of days before you do so."

Ron nodded mutely.

"Hagrid, could I ask you to escort our two students to collect their brooms, and then up to my office, where we can say our goodbyes please?"

"O' course yeh can Headmaster. Come on then you two." Hagrid stood, knocking his chair backwards.

"What's up Ron?" Hagrid asked as they walked back up to Gryffindor Tower. "Yeh hardly said a word durin' dinner."

"Just a bit nervous," Ron said gruffly, "it was all that talk of exams. Mum's been going on about them all summer."

"Ah now Ron, there's no use worryin' over that. They're done, and there's nothin' yeh can do about it."

"Yeah, I guess." Ron replied, unconvinced and quickly changed the subject. "How's Grawp getting on Hagrid?"

"He's loads better! I think he's startin' to learn a bit of English now too. I think he might even be gettin' a bit bigger now that he doesn' have the other giants pickin' on 'im all the time. I had a load of trouble with the centaurs about him though." Hagrid added in a lower, worried tone. "See, when he helped Harry and Hermione out, he ended up killing some of them and he hurt Bane bad. Real bad. They were gatherin' up some of the other creatures in the Forest against 'im when I met them after. They'd even got some of Aragog's lot with 'em. I put a stop to it mind, but they were furious. Mad as I'd ever seen 'em."

"Well, if he did kill some of them, Hagrid…" Harry began reasonably.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not surprising they're frightened of him." Ron added.

"He didn't mean ter kill them!" Hagrid cried indignantly. "They shot at him first, he was just defendin' himself. Yeh can't blame him for that!"

Wisely, Harry and Ron dropped the subject.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Well, see you in a few days mate." Ron said, stepping towards Dumbledore's fireplace. "Give me a letter, or shove your head in the floo when it's okay for us to visit."

He took a pinch of floo powder from a snuff box, which magically filled in the crater that was left behind. Dumbledore lit the fire with a swish of his hand, and soon Ron was gone. With a start, Harry realised his heart was thumping heavily. In a few minutes time he would be in Grimmauld Place. Sirius' house. Just the thought of the dark, old place, with the cloying feel of dark magic attached to it made Harry want to back away.

"Harry? Are yeh alright?" Hagrid asked in a worried tone.

"I… Yeah… I'm – I'm fine." Harry replied in a shaky voice. "Professor," He addressed Dumbledore, his voice dropping, "Could I go straight to Grimmauld Place please. I want to get it over with."

Professor Dumbledore looked at him with such an expression of understanding that Harry wanted to hex him or punch him, or _something_. How could anyone understand how he was feeling?

"Of course Harry. I am sure that Tonks would be willing to go and collect your trunk if you wish?" Tonks nodded.

"No." Harry mumbled. "She doesn't need to, I can do it tomorrow, I just want to get this done with tonight."

"Very well, I will send your aunt and uncle an owl explaining your absence. I shall see you tomorrow morning Harry, I suggest you try and get some rest tonight." Dumbledore offered Harry the snuff box, and Harry took a pinch.

Harry took a deep breath. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."


	4. Tidying Rooms

**Chapter 4: Tidying Rooms**

The world spun around him, and Harry felt a bout of nausea approaching. As his head revolved, one thought repeated itself in Harry's head. _I hate travelling by floo_. Harry fell out of the fireplace in Sirius' sitting room, stumbling onto one knee. Remarkably, his glasses stayed on for once.

"Harry!" A memorable voice cried out. "How are you?"

Remus Lupin stood smiling at Harry, having evidently just risen from the settee. His robes were as shabby and patchy as ever, and he had bags under his eyes. His face was thin and gaunt – even more so than usual – and the look was matched by the rest of his body. Harry tried and failed to remember when the last full moon had been. As soon as Harry had finished inspecting his parents' friend, the rest of the room started to invade his vision. It was exactly as it had been when he had looked out of the fireplace searching for Sirius. The same pictures were on the wall, the furniture was arranged identically, and added to this there was a gloomy feel to the place that almost suggested that the house knew its master's bloodline was no more.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm okay I guess, Professor. Don't feel ready to be back here though."

Lupin nodded. "I know how you feel. It gets easier after a while. Where are your things?"

"They're – I wanted to do this before I lost my nerve. I'll get them tomorrow. Professor Dumbledore said it was ok."

There was a _CRACK!_ behind him, and Harry swivelled sharply, grabbing his wand from his pocket. He pointed it at the newly apparated form of Tonks. "St-"

"Hey! I come in peace!" Tonks held her hands up in mock surrender.

"I – God, I'm sorry Tonks!" Harry's heart was pounding and he felt a bit faint, not to mention foolish.

"Not to worry." Lupin's calm voice spoke out, "It's not surprising you're a bit on edge Harry. No harm done. You should get some rest. You can worry about everything in the morning."

Harry snorted, "I spent most of the afternoon asleep – I doubt I need any more just yet."

"Some things are best thought about on a rested mind Harry, you might find it better –" Lupin began.

"Honestly Remus!" Tonks interrupted him grinning. "Stop mothering the poor boy. A fine welcome! Hi Harry, now go straight to bed!"

Lupin raised an eyebrow, though Harry fancied he may have been slightly affronted. "Why you cheeky young miss! With you and Molly anywhere near Harry I doubt he'd need any mothering from me at all!"

"Me?" Tonks asked in horror. "I wouldn't have the first clue how to mother somebody. Not the domestic type me, I'm more the find someone and beat them into submission kind of girl!"

Lupin pressed home his advantage with a wicked grin. "Really? Is that why you volunteered to collect Harry this morning, and insisted on being here tonight?"

Tonks was now a blushing red, and Harry laughed. A few seconds later Tonks chuckled too. "I asked for that didn't I?"

"You did." Lupin agreed. "If you wish to stay awake for a while, then do Harry, the choice is yours. I just know that after a long day, certain things are difficult to handle. First of all however, we should give you a room! Which do you want?"

"I – I'm not too pushed." Harry replied, "Maybe I should just stay in the room I had with Ron last time."

"That's a tiny room Harry." Tonks dismissed. "You should go for one of the others. Sirius would want you to have his old room you know."

Harry's chest constricted and he remained silent for a few seconds. "I'd rather not go in there Tonks." He replied throatily.

Tonks' hand went up to her mouth immediately. "Oh Lord. I put my foot in it, didn't I Harry? I'm sorry, I just didn't think."

Lupin had winced, and turned slightly paler himself. "There's a nice room on the third floor Harry, which Tonks and I had made up for you this afternoon. You'll need all the space if you stay here until Hogwarts starts. I'd better get you some pyjamas for tonight too. Shall we go up there now?"

Harry nodded, surprised and slightly ashamed that he was glad he wouldn't be taking his first few steps through the house on his own. Broom in hand, he followed Tonks and Lupin to the door.

"We still haven't managed to get rid of Sirius' mum." Tonks said regretfully. "I don't know what else we can try. Maybe we should just get rid of the whole wall!"

"You know, that's not a bad idea Tonks." Lupin mused.

Harry, whose stomach had plummeted once more, suddenly had a vision of a Muggle demolition ball destroying the whole property. It wasn't as satisfying as he had expected.

"Is everything just the same as it always was?" The bitterness in his voice surprised even himself.

"Not everything, Harry." There was a definitely painful sound in Lupin's voice this time.

"Come on you two." Tonks took command, and led them quietly through the door and upstairs.

There walked past the elf heads in silence, Harry averting his eyes. The stairs creaked loudly as they climbed. They had barely stepped onto the second floor landing, when the unusually guttural (for a house elf) voice of Kreacher sounded from a room along the second floor hall. Harry stopped dead. Tonks swore, and looked at Lupin nervously.

"I thought I'd locked the damn thing up." There was a venom to Lupin's voice that Harry had never heard before, and with a surge of realisation, Harry remembered that Lupin had lost his childhood friend twice. There could be no-one else left from his days as a Marauder.

"Filthy Werewolf and blood traitor brat tried to lock Kreacher away. If his Mistress knew the scum that were stopping Kreacher from doing his job, oh she'd throw them out alright. Mistress would be ashamed for her loyal house elf to be forced to serve these thieves that have stolen her house. Oh she would want Kreacher to save it for her. Mistress was so pleased when Kreacher told her he'd killed her worthless son and she thought she'd have her house to herself again, but no! These schemers and plotters are using her house to oppose the Dark Lord still."

Kreacher had appeared into view now, face down and shuffling towards them, it appeared that he hadn't seen them yet. He appeared even older than before, looking feebler than ever. Harry however, only saw the thing that had told him Sirius had gone to the Department of Mysteries, and then laughed at Sirius' fate.

"Mistress was so pleased when Regulus joined the Dark Lord's followers. She knew the filthy Mudbloods and Halfbloods had to be cleansed from her world. She never believed those nasty lies that the Dark Lord had killed him, oh no, not she. She knew that Regulus was brave and true to the Black family, not like that disappointment. Oh she was pleased when Kreacher told her what he'd done."

Harry stepped towards the elf, before Tonks or Lupin could say anything. "Kreacher." He spat, in a voice full of hatred.

"It's the Harry Potter boy. Kreacher wonders what the fool is doing here, now that his Godfather is dead. It was so easy to persuade him that he had gone to the Ministry. Kreacher wonders how such a boy could ever have beaten the Dark Lord. The boy is pointing his wand at poor defenceless Kreacher now, whatever would Kreacher's Mistress say to someone who threatened her faithful house elf?"

Harry had indeed drawn his wand, and was pointing it at Kreacher, and advancing. Lupin seemed incapable of motion, as if he was torn between stopping Harry and joining in, and therefore doing neither.

"Harry!" Tonks cried, and the sound of screaming could be heard below as Mrs Black's portrait awoke. "Oh blast it! Harry let me handle the wretch, just ignore him." She tried to put her hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry didn't stop moving towards Kreacher. It was as if he didn't even hear Tonks.

"The boy can't control himself. Kreacher wonders what his Master would say if he saw such a wild beast in his house. Does it mean to kill Kreacher, Kreacher wonders? Maybe at last Kreacher will have his head placed with his ancestors. But Kreacher thinks that the boy couldn't do it."

"You're going to wish you'd never hurt Sirius, Kreacher. Relashio!"

But Harry's wand had flown out of his hand and straight into a wall to his right before he had finished the incantation.

"The Potter boy is going to try to hurt Kreacher!" The elf looked surprised. "We can't let that happen. Mistress would never allow it."

"STOP, HARRY!" Tonks yelled, drawing her own wand, and finally managing to grab Harry's arm. Before she could do anything however, Kreacher had left the ground and flown the length of the hall into a wall at the end. Harry's wand flew back into his hand, and he broke out of Tonks' grip and ran after the elf. The elf, was slowly getting to its feet, and was regarding Harry with a new sense of caution, and even fear, that Harry hadn't seen before.

"Expelliarmus!" Tonks cried, and once more Harry's wand flew out of his hand, this time towards Tonks. "Harry – calm down. Don't make me stun you. You don't know what you're doing."

Harry snarled at the elf on the floor below him. "You killed Sirius. You killed the last of your precious race of Blacks. You betrayed the family you swore to serve. You deserve to die."

Finally, Lupin moved. He spoke softly, and yet as if each word he spoke was causing him difficulty. "Harry. No. Sirius wouldn't want you to become a murderer for this piece of vermin. Just as you didn't think your dad would want Sirius or me to be one for Pettigrew. Kreacher has to live with the fact that he betrayed everything his kind hold dear, that is his punishment."

Kreacher was looking up in terror between both Harry and Lupin, who was now approaching Harry from behind. Lupin placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, but rather than gripping him, he guided Harry around, back towards the staircase.

"Would you mind dealing with this _thing_ and trying to shut Mrs Black up Tonks?" Lupin asked, in the same emotional voice.

"Of course Remus."

"And can Harry have his wand back please Tonks?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry Harry, but I had to… Yeah. Here you go." Tonks handed it to him uncomfortably.

Lupin guided Harry to the stairs, and up them. Harry was now on autopilot. He both couldn't think, and couldn't stop thinking at the same time. He allowed himself to be pushed through a door, and walked over to the four poster bed automatically. He sat down without taking in any of the room.

"I'll get you some pyjamas or something to wear Harry." Lupin said softly.

Harry's thoughts gradually cleared into horror. He had tried to hurt another being. House elves may not be strictly human, but sometimes it felt like they were. He had really wanted to watch Kreacher's skin burn when he had tried to cast the fiery sparks from his wand. He had wanted to launch Kreacher's body down the hallway. He had to have, or else the wandless magic wouldn't have worked. It was a miracle Kreacher was alive. The frail creature had crashed into the wall at some speed. He had wanted to kill him. Was it because he had to kill Voldemort that he was considering killing others? What was he becoming?

Harry's stomach lurched, as it threatened to expel all the food it had taken at dinner. Forcing it back down, Harry looked around the room for the first time. It was far bigger than his bedroom in Privet Drive. Far bigger than Dudley's even, maybe twice the size. To Harry's surprise, the room was decorated in light, airy colours, quite unlike the rest of the house. A writing desk, a cabinet, and a small bookshelf were along the wall with the door, and to the right of the bed. The king sized four poster protruded into the rest of the room, with ample room on both sides for bedside cabinets, and warm rugs. There was another door leading off the left hand side of the bed. Harry stood, to investigate, and opened it to find an en suite bathroom.

This room must have been one of the Black's own personal rooms, or else a guest quarters for important family members and friends. Turning back to the bed, Harry saw now that it was out of place. Unlike the light yellows that adorned the walls for example, the bedding was a dark and bloody red. The drapes were a Slytherin Green, and the ironwork of the bed itself was an imposing black colour. It was as if someone had decorated the room, and then transplanted a bed from another room into it. He sat down onto the soft mattress, as Lupin opened the door once more, holding up a pair of light red pyjamas.

"I had to shrink them to size I'm afraid Harry, they were Sirius'."

Harry's voice disappeared. He gave a small nod.

Lupin seemed to be having trouble finding his voice too. "Harry, if you want to talk about Sirius, then please, just tell me."

"No." Harry choked. "Not, not now, anyway. You were right before; I'd better try and sleep."

"Oh. Okay, well if you feel you need to Harry, I'm here." Lupin still sounded as if every word was causing him pain.

Suddenly, Harry found the need to try and explain himself. "It's just, Voldemort, if I get too emotional…"

"No – It's okay Harry. Get some sleep, we can talk tomorrow. Goodnight." Lupin walked to the door.

"Night."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

A room, cold and Spartan, as if it had been chiselled out of bare rock long ago, spread out before Harry. He was sitting on a throne, looking down at masked faces which had formed a semi circle that travelled a distance from the left of his throne to the right, encompassing a black single mother family of four. The mother was on her knees, but still trying to hold her children close to her. Her breaths came out in gasps and the youngest child, who could only be about five, was wailing. His sister, an early teenager, was holding her mother tightly, tears staining her face. The oldest of the three children was lying flat on his back, blood coming from the side of his head.

The crowd of watching Death Eaters laughed.

"Crucio!" A manic female voice rang out.

The boy writhed on the ground, screaming. Harry stood up. A hissing beside him signalled a snake was moving towards the centre of the semicircle too.

"Very well Nagini, you wish to have some sport do you?" Harry's voice rang out in a sibilant hiss.

The snake slid forward towards the five year old boy, who shrank back into his mother. The woman cried out.

"No! Whatever you want to do to him, do it to me! He's only a child for God's sake, please no!"

"Don't worry – you shall have your turn. But for now you watch… Impedimenta!" Harry said coolly.

The woman could no longer hang onto the child, and with a motion of Harry's hand, the child was dragged away from his family. He screamed, as the snake nipped his flesh softly, yet just hard enough to leave pinpricks and insert its venom into the body. The mother could only look on in horror as the serpent enveloped the child's body, swaying, and squeezing, and torturing the wretch to the amusement of the Death Eaters. The elder boy rolled onto his hands and knees, and tried to struggle upright, but failed.

The watchers laughed, and Harry himself let out a high, cold laugh, so unlike his normal one. "The Muggle stirs! The filthy fool still tries to fight against those more powerful than him. Lord Voldemort likes courage, boy. My followers must be brave, or they will suffer my wrath," Harry looked at the mask of a Death Eater whose shape reminded him of Wormtail, "but when someone who opposes me has courage? It is so much fun to watch them fight, to watch them wriggle, and struggle to stay alive, when there is only one thing that matters. Their lives are forfeit to me."

Somehow the boy got to his feet. He spat at the ground, and with a speed that was surprising considering the pain he had obviously been put through, ran to his brother, and kicked the snake off of him. He tried to stamp on it, just behind the head, but was flung backwards into the pack of Death Eaters by a spell; the mob pushed him back into the middle quickly.

"Fool!" Voldemort snapped. "Those brave people who are so attached to their family to try to defy me soon die pointless deaths."

The snake slithered across to the boy angrily, and struck like lightning, aiming to kill, and not maim. Again and again it struck to the body of the teenager. Harry tried to scream, but could make no sound.

"Ah!" Voldemort said, "It appears we have a guest my faithful Death Eaters. Harry Potter. The _famous_ Harry Potter is here to watch along with us. Have you heard of Harry Potter, Mrs Thomas? Answer me! Crucio!"

"No." She spat, once the curse was spent.

"Well Harry Potter is the reason you are here today, Mrs Thomas. Don't you want to thank him for giving you the honour of meeting Lord Voldemort?" He laughed, a cold mirthless laugh. "You see your son is in the same year as Harry Potter. He is in the same _dormitory_ as Harry Potter. And your son after tonight will see why he should never associate with Harry Potter again. He has such dangerous tendencies that one, aren't you glad that we will be teaching your son to avoid him?" The Death Eaters joined in with Voldemort's laughter.

By now, Nagini had finished with the lifeless body of the teenager that had defied him, and had turned back to the youngest child. Harry tried to think thoughts of his parents, of Sirius, of Ron and Hermione, of everyone he cared about, trying with all his might to wake up. All the while he tried, however, his eyes were drawn back to the remains of the boy who briefly fought Voldemort's will.

Voldemort laughed. "It seems that our guest is getting bored of all this talking; let us show him how such worthless Muggles that dare bring Halfbloods into this world should be treated. Bellatrix, would you like to resume the fun?"

"Oh yes Master!" Bellatrix Lestrange said excitedly, as Voldemort, and Harry, walked back to his throne.

"So you seek to awaken do you Harry?" Voldemort murmured. "No, no, that will not do now, will it? You should know what standing against me causes. I wouldn't want you to be run away with by the idea that you are actually helping this scum, would I? Every day that you try to fight against me, more people shall suffer. Oh do not worry, I shall not kill them all… where's the fun in that? At least one of these fools will be sent back to tell your precious Gryffindor classmate what happened, and why. The more I spare today, the more I can torture tomorrow. Now, let's settle down, and watch shall we?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry jerked awake. As he did so, pain shot through his scar from Voldemort's anger. He yelled out, and as he did so, nausea spread through every vein in his body. He tried to scramble out of bed, but could only get his feet on the ground before he threw up. Harry groaned, and lay back down, his feet still touching the floor. His door flew open, and Lupin burst in.

"Harry! Is everything alright? What happened?"

Harry just groaned in response. He felt exhausted. Lupin spotted the vomit on the carpet, and waved his wand. It vanished, and with another wave of the wand, a pleasant smell filled the room. Lupin sat down on the bed, next to Harry.

"What happened?" He asked again.

"Voldemort." Harry struggled out.

His stomach was heaving again, and he staggered out to the bathroom, where he vomited once more. He rinsed his mouth with water from the faucet, and stumbled back to the bed, and Lupin.

"He was torturing Dean's mother." He said in a low voice.

"Calm down Harry, and tell me exactly what happened from the beginning." Lupin urged.

"Dean Thomas! His mother and brothers and sister. Voldemort was torturing them. He killed…"

"From the beginning Harry. Where were you when this took place?"

So Harry told him everything he could remember. Everything about the room, how the Death Eaters were arranged, what happened to the victims, what Voldemort had said, everything. When he had finished, he lay back down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to control the panic and guilt he felt running through him.

"It's not your fault Harry." Lupin said quietly, as if he knew exactly what was going through Harry's head. "If you hadn't embarrassed Voldemort by surviving, he would simply have gone after other people close to people he feared, or wanted to intimidate. He knows you care for other people, and he wants to make you feel yourself to blame for what he does to them."

"He's doing a pretty good job of it." Harry murmured, looking away from Lupin and at a wall.

"Would he stop torturing innocent people if you weren't alive, Harry? Would more people be alive?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Of course he wouldn't. Voldemort likes giving pain. He enjoys killing, and that is why we fight against him. For every innocent person he hurts, the more we want to stop him."

"He wouldn't have gone after Dean's family if it wasn't for me." Harry said, huskily.

"No." Lupin agreed. "And he wouldn't have gone after you if it wasn't for your parents standing up against him, and living to tell the tale. Do you blame your parents for Voldemort targeting you as a child?"

"Of course not!" Harry said dismissively. _He blamed that damn Prophecy. He blamed himself. _

"Then why blame yourself f-" Lupin began, but Harry cut across him.

"That was my fault too. I'm the reason my parents died."

"Harry?" Lupin exclaimed. "Why do you think that?"

"The P- Voldemort told me. The only reason he killed my mother was because she was stopping him killing me. He wouldn't have even been there otherwise. If it wasn't for me my parents would be alive." Harry barely registered that he had stood up. He walked to the wall, and hit it, as hard as he could. His hand and knuckles opened up with blood, and he yelled, "If it wasn't for me, Sirius would still be alive."

Lupin caught his arm, as he drew it back to hit the wall a second time. He whispered Harry's name, and held him to him, in a hug. Suddenly, as if floodgates had been burst open, Harry wept.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry winced when he woke up the next day, remembering what exactly had happened during the night. His hand was red, ached, and covered in newly developing scabs, but was nothing in comparison to the wound to his pride that he had suffered. There was blood on his pyjamas, _Sirius'_ pyjamas, as well as the quilt, and it took a while before Harry was able to rinse all the dried blood off his arm in the shower. He pushed the door open, twirling his wand in his fingers, producing the dual effect of loosening his hand a little, and making it hurt like hell.

The halls in the house, and the rooms he glanced in upon, could not be decorated more differently than Harry's room. They were more like the bed, covered in dark, striking colours, which projected power. Harry's feet walked the path they had taken down the hall last night almost on their own. He stared at the wall that Kreacher's body had hit, and then crumpled up below. There was a trace of dried blood on it.

"Scurgify." He muttered, pointing his wand at the stain, but nothing happened.

He walked the rest of the way to the kitchen on autopilot once more; his mind had given up trying to process information, and seemed, on its own accord, to be concentrating on how exactly to get downstairs to breakfast.

When he opened the door, Lupin was standing up, leaning against the wall. He was talking to Dumbledore, but only half-heartedly. Dumbledore was sitting comfortably in a kitchen chair, talking quite merrily. They both turned to the door when it opened, Lupin with a jerk, and Dumbledore with a cheery nod.

"Ah! Harry! The house elves at Hogwarts always try and shepherd me away from the kitchen, but I believe that I make a reasonable scrambled egg, if you'd like some?" Dumbledore stood, conjuring a gnome covered apron and strode to the cooker.

"Um- er- Thanks!" Harry managed. He looked over at Lupin, who gave a small lopsided smile, which could have come straight from Harry's own personal collection. He looked torn between saying something to Harry, and remaining silent.

"Take a seat, Harry, this won't be long." Dumbledore called behind him.

Harry sat. Nothing was said for a few moments, and Harry allowed himself to look into thin air. His head was blissfully blank – his mind seemed to have decided to continue to disassociate itself with him, and leave him out of the loop of its thoughts. It suited Harry just fine. He had been trying not to think for a while now.

Professor Dumbledore brought him back to the present by depositing an aromatic dish in front of him. "Eat up, Harry."

As Harry took his first mouthful, Dumbledore sat down, and began to speak. "We found Mrs Thomas and two of her children alive in the middle of the night. They are now in St. Mungo's, where they are being treated for their injuries. If it weren't for your speedy informing of the vision to Remus, here, the younger of the two children in particular would have been in very great danger of losing his life."

Harry finished chewing, and said bitterly. "I think being tortured by Lord Voldemort and his followers for fun can be considered being in great danger of losing his life already."

Dumbledore continued, as if there had been no interruption. "His skin had been punctured by fangs in many different areas, and each cut had been treated with the same venom that St Mungo's had so much difficulty with when Arthur was bitten. Knowing that the venom came from the same snake enabled us to stabilise his condition very quickly. I believe Voldemort wanted Mrs Thomas to watch her young child die while waiting for aid, after they had been released."

Harry knew that this should make him feel useful somehow, as if he had made things better than they could have been, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she wouldn't have been hurt at all if it wasn't for him. The words stumbled in his throat, as he tried to explain to Dumbledore what had happened.

"The snake was toying with the child. It wrapped around him, half scaring him to death anyway." Harry shuddered and fell silent.

"He will be all right, Harry. They all will. The mother and remaining child were both very badly injured also. Both had undergone curses and many painful punishments, but the important thing is that all will live."

"Their brother didn't. The snake, it…" Harry couldn't find the words to describe what had happened.

"I know, Harry. They told us what happened."

"It _ate_ him." Harry shuddered, and then shot at Dumbledore "All because his brother knew me."

"I will not lie to you, because Voldemort undoubtedly is attacking those closest to you, to try to separate you from your friends, it is foolish not to admit it. This is his choice, however, one that he began to make before you were born. The Ministry and I have hastened plans to provide protective spells for all Hogwarts families, and in particular those that come from ones with links to the Muggle world, and those from Gryffindor. We can just be thankful that there was no further loss of life last night."

"He said he was just keeping them alive so he could torture them again." Harry sighed.

"Overconfidence is a failing that many powerful wizards have – both Dark and Light. We may hope that it will prove to be Lord Voldemort's downfall. Now eat up. I believe it would be a good idea to make a start on your Occlumency training as soon as possible.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry's lesson took place in a small parlour that Harry had rarely been in, away from the main thoroughfares of the house, and devoid of distractions. Dumbledore was sitting down comfortably in an armchair, while Harry was sitting on the edge of his.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore began, "I would like you to describe to me how you clear your mind when practicing your Occlumency."

Harry looked at Dumbledore nervously. How he cleared his mind? Well, he just tried to forget everything, and let his mind go blank. What else should he do?

"Well, I take deep breaths, and try to relax." He began. "I kind of listen for stray thoughts in my head, and try and quieten them and push them to the back of my mind."

"Where do you push them to?" Dumbledore asked.

"I- What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"When you are cleaning a room, you have to put the rubbish, and other bits and bobs you are cleaning away, somewhere. It's the same with thoughts. You can't just make things disappear – not even by magic – they always exist somewhere. So where do you put your memories?"

"I… didn't realise." Harry admitted. "When Sn- Professor Snape told me to clear my mind, I thought he meant to just make it go blank. He could have told me!"

"The strongest Occlumens are those that teach themselves Harry. Professor Snape himself is an example of that. He was trying to give you hints to help you discover what to do yourself. I myself will try not to instruct, as much as to suggest, the necessary paths to take."

"But why are self-taught Occlumens stronger than others, sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "An important question to ask, Harry. Occlumens that follow rules rigidly and impersonally will often find that a skilled Legilimens can easily work out how the Occlumens has organised their defences. If it is a common form, that they have been instructed to use, then the Legilimens may have come across it before. If, however, the Occlumens has a more personalised protection, then the Legilimens has to work out how the witch or wizard has stored their memories, and then how to access them. The more individualistic you are, the stronger a defence you can create."

"But how can I learn how to do something, without someone or something telling me how to?" Harry asked, confused.

"Ah. That is one of the most important questions that you must answer to succeed in Occlumency, Harry. And it is one that you must answer yourself – once you have answered it, you will understand why. It is one of the reasons there are few skilled Occlumens alive today. Try clearing your mind now – tell me when you are ready."

Harry closed his eyes, taking calming breaths, and tried not to think. The question that he had just raised kept running through his head, and as he automatically tried to push it out of his head, as he had taught himself to do, he remembered what Dumbledore had said about tidying a room. He pictured a cupboard in his head, and tried to push the thought in there. Mentally, he closed the cupboard door, and let his mind go blank once more. Other thoughts, some silly, some serious, came to mind, and he tried to treat them similarly, pushing them all into the cupboard and moving onto the next one. Eventually, he felt he was ready.

"Okay." Harry said nervously.

"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled, taking out his wand. "I want you to stand up, without taking out your wand. Try looking directly into my eyes, concentrating on defending your mind."

Dumbledore fixed his eyes directly on Harry's. As their eyes met, Harry felt the animalistic feeling rise up inside of him once more. This time, it was slower than it had been in the hospital wing, and Harry hoped it meant he was starting to control it. Rather than keeping it at a manageable level however, the feeling was still growing gradually, until, after half a minute, Harry had to look away. His heart was thumping, and he actually felt sweat drip from his forehead.

"Very good, Harry." Dumbledore said approvingly. "Here, have a drink, and collect yourself, and we shall try once more." A tray of lemonade appeared at the wave of his wand.

Over an hour later, an exhausted Harry was polishing off a glass of iced pumpkin juice, feeling rather pleased with himself. True, he could not prevent Voldemort's feelings from surfacing indefinitely, but he could look Dumbledore in the eye for a good few minutes without losing control, and even talk a little bit to him. Each time he tried to clear his mind, he found more thoughts that he hadn't put into the cupboard, and each time he placed them in there, he found it easier to block Voldemort out.

"That's enough for today I think, Harry." Dumbledore said, as Harry made to stand up again. "There is only so much the mind can take in at once. We can continue tomorrow. I would ask you to consider Occlumency if you get some free moments during the day. Often inspiration can hit just when you least expect it."

Harry nodded, and then asked a question that he had been wondering for some time. "When I look at you, and can feel Voldemort, do you think he feels it too?"

"I am not sure Harry." Dumbledore admitted. "It is clear that this reaction you have is not governed by any intent on Voldemort's behalf, but rather a reflex reaction caused by his feelings, and it is possible that he has guarded his own mind to such an extent that he did not register what was happening at that moment in the past. The more it occurs however, the more likely it is that he will become aware of our meetings. Nevertheless, after our meeting in the Ministry, it is almost certain that he is aware that our relationship already exceeds headmaster pupil, so there is far more to be gained by acknowledging this rather than concealing it."

"Is that why the attacks have become stronger and more often?" Harry asked.

"Partially. There is also the fact that Voldemort managed to circumvent some of the protection on the house in Privet Drive. He undoubtedly wants to try to press home this advantage while it is still available to him. He must guess that you will be instructed in Occlumency, and the further the two of you are apart, the more likely that you can Occlude your mind from him with even just a relatively basic knowledge. He is of course also aware that there are ways I may be able to restore your aunt's protection in time."

"Do you mean that I will be going back to Privet Drive at some point?" Harry asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"I hope that you are able to go next summer, it is vital to keep your blood protection alive. Have you decided when exactly you wish to collect your clothes and school things today yet?"

"I thought maybe after lunch." Harry said rather stiffly, as if to remind Dumbledore that he didn't want to be forced to live here. "Aunt Petunia will be the only one around then, Uncle Vernon will be at work, and Dudley is almost always out at friends'."

"I see. I sent your Aunt and Uncle an owl last night, I hope that there will be no difficulties, but either Remus or Tonks will go with you in case. If it comes to it, leave the magic to them." Dumbledore warned.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

At two that afternoon, Harry and Lupin entered the fireplace in Grimmauld Place, and appeared at once in Mrs. Figg's sitting room. The batty woman greeted them warmly, and after a few minutes chat (which Harry avoided doing much of) they made their way to Number 4 Privet Drive. Lupin's hand was in his coat pocket the entire journey, and Harry had the unmistakeable feeling that he was being watched. He could have sworn he saw Dedalus Diggle sitting on a park bench – or at least he saw a violet top hat and the back of a head over a hedge.

As they turned on to Privet Drive, and got closer to number four, Harry found a feeling of anxiety start to well up inside of him. It wasn't that he was worried about what Aunt Petunia would do when she saw him. Hadn't Uncle Vernon yelled that he didn't want him in the house a couple of days ago? No, Harry was sure there wouldn't be any problem with his leaving the Dursleys… It was just… He didn't want Lupin to meet them, he decided. While they had seen each other at the station before, they had never been introduced, and Harry didn't want his two worlds to intertwine more than they had to.

"This shouldn't take long." Harry mumbled, more to himself than anything, as they walked up the path to the door.

Ignoring the doorbell, Lupin rapped smartly on the front door, and waited. Aunt Petunia opened it, and stopped dead.

"Hello Petunia." Lupin said in a polite tone.

She frowned, and pursed her lips before resentfully replying. "Good afternoon Mr Lupin." She turned to Harry, and sniffed. "You're going for the summer are you?"

"I, well, yeah." Harry muttered, not meeting her gaze.

"Well I'm glad we were given such notice. Come in, your _bird_ made an absolute racket last night, go and deal with it."

"Hedwig!" Harry groaned. How could he have left her in her cage all day and night? Luckily she had had plenty of water, but she hadn't been able to stretch her wings or hunt for over twenty four hours! He practically ran past his aunt upstairs to his room. He burst into the room to a disgruntled hoot from Hedwig.

"I'm sorry girl." Harry said as he opened the cage.

Hedwig flew to the top of the wardrobe and turned her back on him. She was deaf to Harry's apologies, and blind to the proffered owl treats. Finally, Harry opened the window.

"Look girl, I have to go back to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer. Would you like to stretch your wings and fly there?"

Hedwig finally turned around, and hooted grumpily. She flew down once more, buffeting Harry's head hard, and perched on the outside of the window.

"Just be careful girl, okay? Voldemort's Death Eaters might be trying to intercept any mail sent by or to me. And I promise I'll let you out more than last summer – I don't care what Dumbledore says."

Finally Hedwig gave a more cheerful hoot, and launched herself into flight. Harry watched her go with a feeling of guilt. How could he have been so selfish as to forget about Hedwig being locked up all day? He had just been so caught up in having to tell Dumbledore what had happened, and then been so upset about having to live in Grimmauld Place that Hedwig's plight had escaped him.

Harry looked around his room. Very little had been removed from his trunk since he had returned from his fifth year, and it barely took a second to repack. He recovered his Invisibility Cloak from where he had left it by his bed, and dragged the trunk to the door. He couldn't help but wish he was allowed to bewitch it to make it lighter.

Lupin called up to him as he pulled it on to the landing, "Hey, Harry! Don't worry about moving it – we can take the Portkey from up there. Are you done?"

"Nearly, just have to clean out Hedwig's cage. I'll be down in a minute."

Harry took his time, savouring the moments he could spend away from the Black House. After a while however, he felt he couldn't delay any longer. The cage was clean, the room was bare, and Harry's mind was starting to wander again. He took his time down the stairs, and was surprised to hear Aunt Petunia's raised voice.

"And Vernon? Is he safe? He doesn't have the blood of anyone related to Lily in him, does he?"

"You all will be safe as long as you stay together." Lupin replied in a calm voice.

"And what about Vernon's work? He often has to go to meetings… What if he has to leave town on business?"

"We have had protective charms raised around his workplace for years now. It may be best if he delegates any journeys to the people working below him however."

Harry walked in to see an irate Petunia Dursley holding a shaking teacup and saucer on her crossed knees, and a Lupin that reminded Harry of the Lupin that had taught him in third year. Calm, patient, and willing to thoroughly explain things to people that just found it hard to understand.

Aunt Petunia turned her head towards Harry as he entered the room, and said, in an almost hysterical tone, "You! Why are you going anyway? Is it because the defences that that Dumbledore put up have failed? It should have been impossible for me to do any magic – he told me so! Is _he_ going to be coming here after us now the protection is gone, and you're hiding and letting us be killed instead?"

"Of course not Petunia. Voldemort has weakened one of the many charms protecting you, but that is all. Harry is leaving because he needs to be able to use things that aren't available to him in the Muggle world. You are better protected than almost any wizard or witch I know. We shall also continue to look out for any danger for you and your family." Lupin replied reassuringly.

"But what if _he_ gets through them? Then what?" Harry noticed that Aunt Petunia seemed just as scared to say Lord Voldemort's name as most witches and wizards.

"As I said, he will still be unable to harm you or your son without causing great pain to himself, possibly death."

"And Vernon?"

Lupin paused. "If it somehow gets that far, there will be people coming to help you immediately, and they will be able to evacuate you and your husband before any harm can come to you."

"So he isn't protected then? He has nothing that will save him against _him_?"

"He has the many charms that Dumbledore has placed over you, which it has taken weeks for Voldemort to even weaken just one of. Dumbledore is the only wizard that Voldemort has ever feared, because of his strength in magic. You have one of the best protected homes in the world."

Harry spoke for the first time. "It's true Aunt Petunia. They fought just over a month ago, and Professor Dumbledore defeated him. And what else could you do? You can't just leave, and even if you did he'd find you. You don't have a choice. Just like I don't have a choice about what I have to do in the summer." Harry's tone was defeatist, and perhaps it was this that caused Aunt Petunia to go quiet.

"I'll ask Vernon to get a gun." She whispered eventually.

"It might help, but I doubt it." Lupin said dubiously.

"Well it's all we can do, isn't it?" Aunt Petunia shot back.

"We should go." Lupin said to Harry, who was still standing at the doorway. "Thank you for the tea, Petunia." He continued, placing his saucer on a coffee table.

They walked upstairs, Aunt Petunia following them, until they were outside Harry's door. Harry put his arm around Hedwig's cage, and grabbed his trunk with the other.

"Here, let me take that." Lupin held his hand out for the cage.

He took a glove out of his pocket, signalled Harry to touch it, and then tapped it with his wand. Taking hold of Hedwig's cage he also touched the glove, and then spoke: "Home."

Harry vaguely heard a gasp, before the familiar tug of a Portkey drew him through the whirl of colours. They landed in Harry's room, and Harry ended up falling over his trunk, onto the bed.

Lupin grinned. "Nice landing." Harry grimaced sarcastically, and Lupin continued, "I'll be downstairs if you need me. I'll let you unpack."

Before Lupin left, Harry asked a question he'd been wondering since he heard the conversation with his aunt begin. "Did you and Aunt Petunia already know each other? I didn't know you were on first name terms."

"We're not… really. Petunia was at your parents' wedding. But I don't think she got on that well with anyone there. Sirius and I – well, just me mainly – tried to talk to her, for Lily's sake, but… lets just say that we were quite aware she didn't like magical folk. I haven't seen her since, apart from at the station this year."

Harry spent the next while taking things out of his trunk, and putting them away. Then moving them around a bit, and finally redoing it for a third time. He had never really truly arranged his belongings in a room before. When at Privet Drive he never had actually owned anything to arrange that the Dursleys wouldn't have destroyed anyway. At Hogwarts, or when he stayed anywhere else, he lived out of his trunk. He sat down on the bed and looked around him at the newly arranged room.

With a sudden flash of realisation, he found his mind return to the Occlumency lesson earlier. What had Dumbledore compared the storing of his mind to? Tidying a room! Had he stowed all his belongings in one small cupboard that he kept shut? But how _should_ he store his memories? He supposed that was one of the things Dumbledore wanted him to take time to think about. The thought that he might actually have started to make progress in the subject caused him to sit down and apply himself to it, and it was only when Lupin knocked on the door to see if he was alright, that he stopped and went downstairs.

Harry brought his broom and broomstick servicing kit downstairs with him, ready to repair the damage that had been done. Lupin settled behind the Daily Prophet, but often glanced at Harry and the Firebolt. Harry felt it a bit unnerving, not because Lupin was watching _him_, but because the Firebolt had been a present from Sirius, and sure enough:

"Harry, Sirius-" Lupin began, and Harry's head jerked up so quickly that Lupin faltered. Harry stayed silent however, so Lupin continued. "Sirius wrote a will at Christmas, in case he died."

Harry made a noncommittal noise from his throat.

"It's not exactly legally binding until he's cleared, but, well, he split his money into thirds: a third to the Order and its members, a third to you, and a third to, well, me." Lupin looked a bit awkward, although Harry wasn't sure why.

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so said nothing. Lupin, however, went on.

"He also left the two of us this place, as well as it's contents et cetera" Lupin gestured with his hands, "to do what we liked with."

"Sirius hated it." Harry said venomously. "Why don't we just sell it?"

Lupin looked at Harry with shadows under his eyes. "He may not have liked being back here Harry, but he always wanted you to have somewhere to go. Besides, I think he'd quite like it if we managed to turn it from the house he grew up in, to one where decent people could live. And it's nice to have somewhere that reminds me of Sirius." He said with a pained expression, almost to himself.

They were moving onto ground that Harry wanted to steer clear from, and Lupin obviously found it painful too, so he tried to move on. "So how do we go about decorating the place then?"

Lupin sighed. "We did a lot of the work last summer, but unfortunately the rooms" he waved his hand around him, "and some of the bigger furniture have permanent decoration charms on them. They're used to keep the rooms decorated in the same theme even if new furniture gets brought in. These ones are so strong, that the only way you can get rid of them, is if you know the right password to change it, it seems."

Seeing that Harry still looked confused, he continued. "Basically the room is bewitched to be decorated in a certain style. Anything put in the room will gradually turn into that exact same theme. If we put a light coloured cabinet in here for example, it would gradually turn black, and be transfigured into a more darkly ornamental style – like that one." He pointed at a cabinet in the corner. "The only way you can stop that is if you put another decoration charm on it before you move it in."

"What about the room I'm in?" Harry asked. "That's completely different to the rest of the house!"

"Ah." Lupin gave a slight smile. "Sirius and I tried off and on for months to find the right word for that room and failed, but Tonks and I gave it another go the last few weeks. It was 'Kaadar' – that's Gobbledegook for 'Pure'. Unfortunately the bed and everywhere else seem to have a different password." Lupin took out his wand, and said, "Decoria destro kaadar." Nothing happened.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Now I understand why the place looks like it does. The words don't even have to be in English?"

"Nope. Not even in a human language. They could be in Mermish or Pixie too. It was a fluke we got just one of them right. So decorating remains a bit of a problem."

"Isn't there any other way of doing it?"

"Well there are redecorating firms that could probably get around them, but we can't exactly ask them to come here, what with this being the Headquarters for the Order and all. I tried asking Phineus Nigellus if he knew any of the words, but he refused to tell me."

"You could always ask Mrs Black." Harry tried to joke.

Lupin forced a smile. Harry returned to his broomstick, speaking sporadically with Lupin until Tonks arrived later. They cooked a meal together, all three of the cooks taking the blame – and the credit – for the meal, and spent the evening talking about Quidditch.


	5. Enter: Hermione

**Chapter 5: Enter: Hermione**

Harry's next few days continued peacefully – Occlumency practice with Dumbledore in the mornings, and then afternoons spent either reading Defence Against the Dark Arts or Quidditch books, or doing things around the house. Harry soon gave up trying to discover the passwords for the permanent decoration charms. Random guessing wasn't going to achieve anything, and he had no wish to talk to any of the portraits. Certainly not Phineus Nigellus, who of course would be privy to almost everything Dumbledore knew, being as he was, bound to service to the Hogwarts Headmaster.

Lupin often spent his time around Harry, especially in the evenings, when Tonks would also often appear. Harry was first annoyed, and then bewildered as Lupin kept bringing the subject of Sirius, and his death into the conversations. Bewildered, because Harry had made it clear that he did not want to talk about it, and also, although Lupin brought the subject up, he seemed unable to continue with it himself. In an effort to prevent the topic from even starting, Harry started practicing spells in the living room, and asking Lupin for hints and suggestions as to technique, hoping this would divert Lupin's attention. This only had moderate success however, as often Lupin would remark that Sirius and Harry's father had enjoyed using a certain jinx on Snape in school, or else that Sirius had never liked using that particular spell, as he felt it was too easy to spot coming.

Occlumency was progressing in a fashion, Harry felt. By now he had imagined a lot of cupboards in his head, each cupboard containing a certain kind of memory. He was finding it easier and easier to look Dumbledore in the eye as a result. While this was a small achievement, seeing as Dumbledore hadn't even attempted to perform Legilimency on him yet, it was an improvement nonetheless. However there was no improvement as regards the nightmares that Voldemort sent him. Harry took the dreamless sleep potion twice in the three days since his vision of Dean Thomas' family. The night he didn't, he was presented another one by Voldemort.

The big problem about the Occlumency, Harry found, was that sometimes he just couldn't visualise the cupboards in his head. He would try and try to picture them, but they just wouldn't appear, and so he was left with the thoughts and memories swimming around in his mind. If, during the day, he tried to assign memories to storage, it became rather hit and miss as to his success. Harry had a feeling that the more physically tired he was, the easier it became, but yet once at night it seemed impossible.

Despite all the problems, however, Harry was slowly starting to feel a bit calmer. Not that he was happy with anything that was going on, but rather the routine he was settling into was one which he was able to follow without stressing himself too much, and importantly, one that was passing without incident. It was, therefore, perhaps inevitable, that with less than a week until Snape's trial, and just four days after Harry had arrived in Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore joined them one evening unexpectedly.

"I hope," He began, "you can excuse my interruption, but I am afraid that the relative peace and quiet that you have had, Harry, must come to an end. The Order of the Phoenix must meet once more, and there is no place safer for us to be. I trust that you have used the time you have had to settle in comfortably, I know you have used it wisely as regards your studies. Naturally this will mean that the house will become more crowded, and at times we shall have to request privacy."

Harry tried to phrase the sentence he wanted to ask, calmly in his head, but couldn't find the words to say it. Dumbledore, however seemed to either sense what he was thinking, or expect it, and continued without a pause.

"If there is anything important that relates to you and your safety, or the safety of your friends, you shall hear about it, rest assured."

"I have a feeling that our two youngest members would tell Harry anyway." Lupin said with a smile.

"Quite so. We have already discussed the benefits and drawbacks of Fred and George Weasley's entry into the Order of the Phoenix." Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "I hope Harry, that you will be satisfied with this – as we have already discussed, the less people that are aware of some of our work the better, even amongst those in the Order."

Harry made a noncommittal noise, before assenting grudgingly.

"But more importantly, I must come on the behalf of Miss Hermione Granger." Noticing Harry stiffen, Dumbledore flashed a smile, before continuing. "We have managed to arrange her return to Britain to take place in a discreet manner tomorrow, but naturally she requires a bed until the trial is over. I could of course, ask Mrs Weasley if she would mind looking after another body, but I fancy that you might appreciate the company of a friend your own age, Harry."

Lupin chuckled, "As opposed to an old man like me you mean Albus?"

Although Harry was still unsure as to whether he wanted his friends around him or not, he could tell that delight at Hermione's visit was assumed from him. He tried to sound delighted at the idea, but had a feeling that Dumbledore at least was not convinced. Indeed, he seemed to be looking at Harry quite shrewdly, as if he thought he knew exactly how Harry might be feeling.

"Great! I take it your ban on the Weasleys' visits has ended then too sir?" Harry tried to smile.

"It has indeed Harry!" Dumbledore smiled back energetically. "You are free to make a floo call to them whenever you like. They shall all be delighted to be able to see you. Molly in particular wished to visit as soon as possible. I believe I did succeed in persuading her as to the validity of my reasons for the delay however." He paused, before continuing, "It would be best if you didn't stay in the Burrow for more than a few minutes at most – the Burrow is well protected, but it would be wise not to risk drawing Lord Voldemort's attention there."

Harry's stomach plummeted, and his voice caught in his throat as he tried to reply, betraying his feelings. "Y- Yeah, of course."

"The longer we can keep Voldemort searching for our Headquarters, without any progress, the better. It prevents him from focusing his attention elsewhere, on to more manageable tasks. He is searching both for you, and for us, and the longer we can remain hidden, the more he will try to find us – and the more vulnerable he will become."

Harry felt slightly better at the suggestion that Voldemort may be just as obsessed with discovering the whereabouts of the Order as to hunting him. Slightly, but not much. Dumbledore looked at him keenly.

"Voldemort seeks to divide us Harry; we are only strong by staying together. A united group of friends, family, and colleagues is far harder to defeat, than the same individuals warring between themselves, or fighting alone. Voldemort understands the importance of a loyal group. For Riddle it is, and always has been, loyalty to him that matters. We need to be loyal to ourselves and each other. Voldemort may underestimate the feelings that create this group, but he understands the power that the group can be."

Dumbledore looked directly into Harry's eyes. "We must not allow him to split up our friendships, or else Voldemort will emerge victorious. We need every person that is willing to fight him, to join as one against him."

Harry looked away, wondering uncomfortably if Professor Dumbledore had heard about what had happened between Ron and himself in Hogwarts.

"Yes sir." Harry agreed. Visions of Mrs Weasley's Boggart that had appeared last year flashed through Harry's mind.

"I– Professor?" Harry started, trying to change the subject. "When will Hermione get here?"

"Friday evening Harry, I can say no more. The method of her return is unorthodox, and relies on circumstances outside of our control. I should hope that it will be before midnight however."

Dumbledore did not stay much longer, and Harry was left with a troubled mind. Occlumency was impossible that night, and he took a large dosage of the dreamless sleep potion.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry woke late the next morning, and for an instant had the bewildering sensation that he hadn't slept at all. He still hadn't got used to the way that the potion caused him to both sleep and wake as though by the touch of a button. There were no images left over from stray dreams to blink back, only the crisp thoughts that he had had before drinking the liquid. It only added to the feeling that he couldn't escape from thinking about certain things.

Top of that list at the moment were Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore had spoken last night, as if he was quite aware of Harry's fears, and that he could tell Harry wanted them to distance themselves from him for their own safety, but he hadn't exactly banished his worries. He had said that they all had to work together to defeat Voldemort, but that didn't really mean that it – that _he_ – wouldn't get either of his best friends killed. And after all, it would only be the two of them. Wouldn't it?

As hard as it was to do, he had to admit that it wasn't as simple as that. Ron's parents were in the Order, as were most of the sons, and both Hermione and Ron would fight against Voldemort regardless – he couldn't stop them. And what about the other people he knew? He didn't want any of his classmates to die – he felt sick when he thought of Dean Thomas and his family. It wasn't just the two people he wanted to protect in that way – it was almost everyone he knew. Dumbledore said that they had to fight together against Voldemort and that stupid Prophecy said that he was the one that had to kill him. If Dumbledore was right (as he usually seemed to be, Harry thought almost resentfully), then Harry had to fight alongside these people, and then, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, all that he cared about might die.

Harry's eyes glanced at a mirror that was lying on the desk in his room. Its glass had been shattered, and there were only some very small pieces still attached to it. The rest of the glass was in his trunk. A lump rose to his throat as he thought of how Sirius had died because of him. How the fact that Sirius cared so much had caused him to come running to the Ministry. As Ron would have. How the fact that Sirius being at the Ministry had meant that his life had ended. As Hermione's might have.

Harry reached for his wand, and pointed at the mirror. "Reparo."

He jumped, as there was a crash of glass from his trunk. It was swiftly followed by more sounds of glass shattering, which grew softer and softer, until a stream of glittering light left through the Muggle lock on his trunk, and flowed through the air towards the mirror. Once there, it started to knit itself together, until the beam stopped, and it formed a smooth glass mirror once more. Harry was about to raise his wand again, when the mirror sped into his hand. He stared into it, seeing only his tousled reflection.

"Sirius. Sirius Black." He said clearly. But just as at the end of last school year, nothing happened. "Sirius. SIRIUS!"

There was a knock at his door. "Everything alright Harry?" Lupin asked from outside the room.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'll be down in a minute."

Harry quickly shoved the mirror under a pillow, in case Lupin came in. The last thing he needed was Lupin seeing something that would bring up Sirius and his parents into conversation.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry stuck his head in the fire that afternoon to let Ron know he could visit. Lupin had kept suggesting it over lunch, and although he still was unsure whether to listen to himself or Dumbledore, he did it anyway. Mrs Weasley was the person nearest to the fire. When she saw him, Harry got the distinct feeling that she wanted to pull him through the floo network and give him a rib breaking hug.

"Harry dear! How are you?" She beamed.

"I'm fine." Harry lied. "Is Ron around?"

"It's wonderful to see you again. I hope this means that Professor Dumbledore is allowing us to visit now." She looked more than a little put out.

"Er, yeah. He saw us last night to tell us that the Order needed to use the house again."

"Good." Mrs Weasley replied with a little nod, "Someone needs to make sure you're eating properly."

"You shouldn't worry about that Mrs Weasley, we're managing okay." Harry replied, to which Mrs Weasley gave an audible 'hmm', so he quickly changed the subject. "Mrs Weasley? Is Ron around? Just – I'm not used to doing this, and it feels a bit strange. I wanted to see if Ron would like to floo over."

"Of course dear, I'll get him for you." Mrs Weasley moved out to the hall, and Harry could hear her calling for Ron. There was an answering shout, and then the thuds of somebody running down a staircase at the sound of Harry's name. Ron's beaming face appeared in front of the fire.

"This mean I'm allowed to visit mate?" Ron asked.

"Something like that." Harry grinned back. "My neck's killing me so I'll go and you can come through."

He pulled his head back through the fire, and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling that his head wasn't attached to anything and was rolling around as if it were a football. He got to his feet and sneezed, dislodging a few specks of soot that had settled beneath his nose. Ron appeared in the great fireplace a minute later, wand in hand. He looked a little nervous.

"Hey Harry." He greeted. "Okay?"

"Been worse." Harry replied.

Both of them stood there a bit awkwardly, Harry's outburst when they had been on the way up to Gryffindor Tower was obviously foremost in Ron's mind, as well as Harry's. It was Ron who broke the silence.

"So can we really do magic without being detected here?" He asked, fingering his wand.

"Well, I have, and if I can get away with it, I'm guessing you can." Harry replied with a lopsided grin.

Ron took a deep breath, and then said, shakily, "Lumos."

As the tip of his wand lit, he screwed his face up, and hunched slightly as if expecting a barrage of owls from the Ministry of Magic. When none came, he relaxed, and gave a grin.

"I don't _believe_ no-one told us we could use magic here." He said, but with much less indignation than when he had first heard it.

It had broken the uneasy feeling between them both (which they happily allowed to slip away without referral).

"So Harry," Ron started to ask, "decided what we're going to do in the DA next year?"

Harry shook his head, "I told you and Dumbledore, I don't know if I want to keep doing it or not."

"Why not? It went really well last year!"

"Well, for one thing, the only reason we started it was Umbridge, and she's gone. We might have a really good teacher this year."

"Oh come on Harry! Are you saying that we shouldn't practice as much as we can in case You-Know-Who attacks? The more we learn the better, if we have to fight Death Eaters, surely? Harry," Ron's voice was deadly serious now, "the DA saved our lives at the Ministry. There's no way we could have fought like we did without it."

Harry half turned away. There was no way _he_ wanted to talk about the fight in the Ministry of Magic.

"Look, Harry. You taught us a lot last year. Even Neville is way ahead of anyone else in our year. Even if you were just helping us with technique on the things we'd learnt with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, it'd be worth it mate. I'm serious. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't keep doing it."

"Voldemort attacked Dean's family because of me." Harry said bluntly. "All because he's in our dorms and he was in the DA. Because he was a friend of mine."

"Dean?" Ron said, horrified. "Is that why… Merlin – Ginny!" Ron almost made to turn back to the floo.

Harry slumped into a chair. "It was a few days ago, and Ginny wasn't there Ron, it's okay."

Ron sat down too, but stayed on the edge of his seat. "When was this? What happened?"

"Like I said, it was a few days ago. Voldemort had captured Dean's mother and some of his brother and sisters. He was torturing them. One of them died. I saw it happen. I woke up and the Order managed to find the rest before they were killed too." Harry swallowed. "I think they're in St Mungo's. I guess Dumbledore wanted to keep it quiet. I mean, who'd want their kids to be friends with me, or in the DA with me if it means they'll get attacked?"

"Mum and Dad would." Ron said immediately. "Anyone who is going to fight You-Know-Who would. But Merlin… Ginny…" Ron looked dismayed. He continued, before Harry could say a word. "She looked really upset two days ago, I suppose she must have heard. I'm such a PRAT!" He yelled the last word, hitting himself on the head.

"Er, Ron? What happened?"

"I… I asked her if Dean had done anything to her, and told her I'd sort him out if he had." Ron continued mournfully. "No wonder she burst into tears and ran upstairs. I'm such a... a…" He tried to find a word foul enough to describe himself.

"Ah." Harry said in understanding. "Ah. Um… Look, you weren't to know, Ron."

Ron shook his head. "Hermione's right." He moaned. "I am an insensitive wart. How could I say that when she was upset already? She hasn't spoken to me since."

"Where is she now?" Harry asked.

"In her room in the Burrow." Ron mumbled.

"Go and apologise to her." Harry suggested.

"Yeah… Apologise to her…" Ron looked up, and then at Harry frantically. "But what do I _say_?"

"Just… tell her you didn't know and didn't mean to upset her. Just say you were sorry. Don't tell her I saw the dream though." Harry added.

"What? Why not?" said Ron confused.

"Just, I don't want her to know it's my fault." Harry said uncomfortably.

"Don't be stupid Harry, it's not your fault, and anyway, I doubt Ginny could blame _you_ for anything much." Ron said, without giving the idea any consideration. "You're right… I… I've got to do it now." Ron stood up, still looking completely flustered, and muttering under his breath. He had just reached for the floo powder, when he turned to look it Harry, "You don't mind do you Harry? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Sure go on. Just don't tell her I saw it happen. I'll see you in a bit."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I take it it went okay then?" Harry asked a beaming Ron, as he stepped out of the fire over an hour later.

"Yup." Ron replied. "Now where were we? Oh yeah, I had just persuaded you to keep doing the DA."

Harry groaned. "Look, Ron… I'll think about it, okay? Now can't you _please_ drop it?"

"Well there's nothing to stop us practicing magic ourselves here now, is there? So maybe we can practice a few defensive spells? We had just got onto Patronuses when that cow Umbridge wrecked everything. Seeing as Dad says that the Dementors have rejoined Voldemort, I guess we should be learning this. I mean I should." He added.

"Patronuses?" Harry repeated, trying to keep the horror out of his voice at this prospect – he wasn't sure he could think of a strong enough happy memory at this point in time. "I don't think that's such a good idea Ron. Not straight away anyway. I mean…" He trailed off, trying to think of a good reason.

"Why not?" Ron asked. "It makes sense to continue where we stopped doesn't it?"

"It's not that, it's just…" Harry desperately tried to think of an excuse. "When I was doing the DA, I'd work out how I was going to try and teach things beforehand. I can't just try and teach something without having thought about how."

"Well. How about you just show me what to do, and I try and copy you? You can correct my technique and everything, right?" Ron persisted.

"I-" Harry tried desperately to come up with a good argument against it, but couldn't. "How about you try the spell and we kind of go from there? No promises, but we'll see, right?"

This hadn't been what he'd been expecting when Ron first visited. Sure, he'd imagined they might get onto the subject of magic, and possibly even do some mock duels together, trying out some of the less harmful jinxes, but he hadn't expected to be forced to teach the Patronus charm of all things to Ron. Even with the Occlumency training, Harry had so many bitter tasting memories floating around his head, and so few powerfully happy ones. He was quite aware that his best Patronus at the moment was likely to be a feeble effort.

Ron was also obviously having difficulty with the charm himself, all he could produce was white vapour, and the more he tried, the mistier it became. For Harry, the reason for this was evident.

"Ron. Stop getting so worked up about it – you have to be thinking completely about a happy memory when you cast it, so if you're really worried about trying to do it, or annoyed because you think you can do better then it won't work."

"I'm trying!" Ron groaned. "I just can't do it! Expecto Patronum!" And, true enough, there was only a wisp of smoke that emerged from Ron's wand.

Harry hid a grin. "Okay. You were really happy when you came in, right? Just try and remember how you felt then." Ron rolled his eyes. "Seriously, just try it!"

Ron gave a sigh. "Okay." After a few seconds, he said in a resigned voice: "Right, done that."

"Oh that's _really_ happy!" Harry said with more than a touch of irony in his voice.

Ron used his wand to pelt Harry with a cushion from the sofa. "Prat!" He grinned.

"Hey!" Harry replied in mock indignation. "Okay. Now try and think of a memory when you were really happy, and weren't too much bothered by anything else."

"Well I guess-" Ron began.

"You don't need to say what it is." Harry interrupted. "Just keep the memory in your head and remember how everything felt. Just keep thinking about it for a few seconds, until you can remember it clearly. Now while you're thinking about it, say the words 'Expecto Patronum'"

Ron held his wand out in front of him, and muttered, "Expecto Patronum."

To his obvious surprise, a shape appeared out of the wand. It disappeared almost immediately, but a large dark animal of some kind had momentarily formed.

"Nearly!" Ron said, with a hint of excitement.

"Not bad!" Harry said approvingly. "I mean, you didn't really say it that clearly. If you'd really said it, I bet it'd have appeared fully."

Just as Ron had raised his wand once more to try again, Lupin's voice came from the doorway. "Hello there Ron. I thought you might be here."

"Hi Professor!" Ron grinned.

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Okay you two. That's enough." he said in a mock severe voice.

"What?" Harry and Ron replied nonplussed.

"How long has it been since I taught you? Over two years, and yet you still call me Professor! I'm honoured – I think – that you still call me Professor, but that's a period of my life I'm unlikely to get back. I keep feeling I should be deducting house points off you with you lot treating me as your teacher all the time. I would hope the two of you trust me enough by now to consider me a friend."

"Er, okay." Ron answered with a grin. "Would you rather we called you Mr Lupin?"

Lupin rolled his eyes, "Well, I'd prefer just plain old Remus, or Moony to be honest."

"We'll try." Harry offered, to a nod from Ron, "But you've just got to accept that you were the best teacher we've had for Defence Against the Dark Arts. We'll do our best. Is that okay with you Pr- er… Remus?"

"It's a start." Lupin answered with a wink. "Now, what were the two of you up to before I interrupted you? Not resorting to duelling already I hope?"

"Oh, not much," Ron replied, "Harry's just been practicing his teaching skills."

"Hey!" Harry interrupted, "You're the one that practically begged me to give you a hand with Patronuses!"

"Patronuses?" Lupin raised an eyebrow. "That's a very healthy subject to be teaching, Harry, I'm impressed. I shall have to start calling you Professor Potter soon!" He settled down into a chair, and looked at them with a grin. "Let's see them then."

"Hey, _Professor_!" Harry replied indignantly. "Ron's doing the spell, not me. I'm just trying to suggest things to make it easier."

Ron, on the other hand, looked nervous. "Er, Remus, I haven't really got the hang of it yet. I was just about to have another go when you came in."

"That's fair enough, it's often tricky to find the best memory to use. There was one I used years ago, which was perfect for some situations, and yet completely failed in others." Harry and Ron's faces invited him to go on, so he explained. "James had transfigured Sirius' hair into a set of antlers when he thought he was sneaking sideways glances at Lily – this was before they were going out of course – and it turned out Sirius had simply put some Weeping Potion in Simon Gravesham's drink, and was waiting to see if he'd drunk it or not.

"Unfortunately Sirius only managed to turn the antlers pink while trying to remove them; and James wouldn't help for a whole day. Of course, Sirius was too proud to ask anyone else for help, and he spent the whole time telling people that he was considering becoming an animagus." Lupin grinned. "Seeing as they were in the middle of actually doing just that, James decided that he'd better get rid of them I think."

Ron laughed. "You're not serious?"

"Oh yes! No-one believed them of course – they took it for what it was – Sirius and James fooling about." Lupin gave a reminiscent smile. "Tell you what Ron, how about I produce a Patronus, then Harry, then you?"

"Oi!" Harry said, annoyed. "Don't I get a say in this? I said I'd give Ron a hand, not do it myself."

"I thought it might make it easier for Ron." Lupin said cheerily. "I often found that just the presence of a Patronus helps calm me down, and makes me feel happier. Why don't you want to do it?"

Once again, Harry couldn't come up with a reasonable sounding excuse, so he backtracked. "Okay, okay, I'll give it a go; I just really wasn't expecting this. I dunno what it'll be like though," he continued, chancing a half lie, "Occlumency has really been messing my memories around at the moment, I'm not sure how easy it will be for me to use one."

There was a definite grain of truth to this statement, as Harry had found it harder and harder to think of memories that he stored away in his cupboards, without actually taking them out of them again in his head. With his difficulty as regards imagining the cupboards, this meant that if he tried to immerse himself in a memory, then he would only get glimpses. So his memories were being messed around a lot by the Occlumency. The one problem with this excuse, of course, was that as of yet, he hadn't created a cupboard to store happy memories in.

"Right O!" Lupin continued in the same happy voice. He paused for a few seconds, collecting himself; then: "Expecto Patronum!"

A brilliantly silver giant owl emerged from the wand tip, beating its wings and soaring around the room. Harry had to admit, that the Patronus did have a soothing effect. His mind, which had been racing trying to find a strong enough happy memory, relaxed slightly, and the thoughts, which had been directed into dark thoughts about Sirius, Voldemort, or any number of things that were troubling him, started to slow in number, and were replaced by less depressing ones. Lupin's owl had seemingly skirted the room, looking for dangers, and then settled itself on its owners shoulder, placing a wing behind his head, and bringing it forward right through Lupin's face in a caressing motion, before disappearing.

"You know – I really should borrow Albus' pensieve and show you that memory. It has to be seen – just talking about it doesn't do it justice." Lupin smiled.

Harry gave Ron a quick glance, and noticed that some of his nerves seemed to have gone. Harry's, however, were building fast. He took his wand out, and quickly tried to imagine a world in which Voldemort had been defeated. Almost before the image had formed, he began to speak the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry said, as confidently as he could.

But the half formed image of a defeated Voldemort began to warp. Mrs Weasley's Boggart seemed to be invading his vision, Voldemort was dead, but so were Ron, Ginny, the twins, Sirius… White mist appeared at the end of his wand. Harry started to go red. He dared not look at Ron or Professor Lupin. He made as if to cast the spell again, but the calm voice of Remus Lupin stopped him.

"Take your time Harry. Don't worry about how long you take to find the memory and remember it. We know that your Occlumency is going to make this harder for you, and it can be difficult enough to find the right memory for the occasion even without all that. Take as many minutes as you want."

Harry turned away from Ron and Lupin to stop them seeing how red his face had become. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. He, Harry, was supposedly good enough at Defence Against the Dark Arts to teach his fellow students, and yet he couldn't even produce a charm that he had mastered years ago. What had Lupin said when he had taught Harry for the first time? _Think! _

Harry had had difficulty finding the right memory then too. He had eventually settled upon the moment he had discovered he was a wizard and was leaving the Dursleys. Remembering that Lupin had used an early memory, Harry wondered if he should try using that again, but it didn't quite fit somehow. It did however trigger another memory of Harry's – a memory of a Tri-Wizard task less than two years ago, which he had been dreading, until he had suddenly thought that he'd rather be fighting a dragon than live with the Dursleys. The feeling he had had once he had grabbed the golden egg! Of jumping off the broom to cheers all around, and a rather ashen faced Ron rushing to find him to apologise for an argument which had seemed so trivial at that moment in time. Of Ron, who hours before Harry had been at odds with, yelling in indignation at Karkaroff of Durmstrang Institute for not giving Harry enough points in the scoring.

Almost without thinking, Harry turned around, with half a grin on his face, and spoke quietly, but in a tone of utter conviction, "Expecto Patronum."

The stag that was Harry's Patronus shot out of the wand, and galloped first towards Ron, then towards Lupin, and then returned to Harry, standing in front of him like a guard, poised to attack anything that might try to harm him. Harry stepped forward behind it, and placed his hand on the Patronus' back. Like with Lupin's owl, the flesh went through the stag, and Harry felt a warm, tingling sensation spreading throughout his body. Unlike the owl, however, the stag didn't disappear. It continued to wait there, watchful for enemies.

Harry, Ron, and Lupin stared at the stag silently for a full minute, whereupon the stag turned, and made to nuzzle Harry's free hand, before eventually fading away once more. Ron had a wide beam on his face, as if he was immensely pleased about something. Lupin also looked pleased, but there was a definite trace of sorrow in the lines of his smile, and his eyes.

Ron stepped forward. "Right." He said decisively. "I know _exactly_ what memory I'm going to use!"

Ron raised his wand, with a quick glance at Harry, and spoke loudly, "Expecto Patronum!"

A great big dog emerged from Ron's wand. Although, like all Patronuses, it was silver, there seemed to be a dark quality to its fur, as if, beneath the shining, silver surface, black fur lay underneath. Its bright eyes took in the room, and then gazed straight at Harry, breaking into a run. Harry's knees gave way, and he fell back on to his bottom. As Ron's face turned into an expression of horror, the dog disappeared. Lupin was momentarily stunned, his face a picture of shock. Gathering himself, he rushed forward to Harry, reaching forward to him.

Harry fixed Lupin with haunted eyes, and whispered. "Sirius?"

"No, Harry. It wasn't Sirius. It was just a Patronus. A dog Patronus, but it wasn't Sirius."

Harry pushed himself up off the ground, shaking his head, as though trying to rid himself of a bad dream. "No, I know it wasn't Sirius." He said in a stronger voice. "It didn't really look like him at all, different shape. It just gave me a surprise, that's all." Harry shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"I… Professor, Harry!" Ron looked worried, seemingly taking the blame for his Patronus looking a little like Harry's dead Godfather.

"It's okay Ron!" Harry gave a small smile. "Nothing you could do about it anyway. It's nothing, really." Seeing Ron still looked scared, he continued, "Really, even if it was something, it wouldn't be your fault anyway, you can't control the shape of your Patronus!"

"It's…" Ron began, before bursting out, "Why is my Patronus a Grim?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Mrs Weasley had appeared later that evening, insisting on cooking dinner, and helping form a welcoming party for Hermione, when she came. It sounded like most of the family would be there. Mr Weasley and Bill were off doing something for the Order, but Charlie, Ginny, and the twins would all be coming over later to join in the gathering. It all promised to be a typical warm Weasley occasion, Harry felt, and to some extent he was glad of it. Apart from anything else, Fred and George might divert Mrs Weasley's attention from his rather thin appearance.

He had already experienced that of course, and it was only Remus that saved him, by telling Mrs Weasley that he needed to talk to her about something for the Order. Unfortunately, not before she had promised Harry that she would 'build him right up again', among other things. Harry had fled upstairs, closely followed by a chortling Ron.

A crash of thunder sounded from outside, and it appeared that they were about to be hit by one of those storms that seem to come along when you've had so much sun you make the mistake of starting to get used to it. Dark clouds were swirling ominously, and, had Harry been given to believing in omens, he would have been worried something bad was about to happen. As it was, both he and Ron were giving nervous thoughts to Hermione, and her trip back to England for more practical reasons. They had no idea how Hermione was getting here, except that it was going to be clouded in secrecy. Although, as Ron said, it was unlikely that she was going to have to fly through this or anything.

They were just speculating exactly how Hermione was going to get here, when a loud _'CRACK'_ signalled the appearance of Fred and George.

"Evening Harry!" They said cheerfully.

"Do you have to be so bloody loud?" Ron asked, grumpily.

"A good salesman knows how to make a spectacular entrance little bro." Fred said.

"Yeah, yeah, and what rubbish are you trying to flog to us?" Ron scoffed.

"Us? Flog substandard merchandise to our financial backer and our little brother-"

"-who's a prefect no less!" Fred continued for George. "We sell only the highest quality goods at the best of prices, and family get special discounts."

"You two have been spending too much time throwing the sales pitch." Harry grinned. "The joke shop's going well then?" He said, as he eyed up the twins' clothes, which seemed to be made of as much dragon hide as possible.

"Like a charm. Children of all ages have been queuing up all summer. Our Kidding Cards are going particularly well." Fred grinned.

"Kidding Cards?" Harry asked, but Ron groaned.

"Do not play cards with these two Harry, I'm warning you. Last time I did, I ended up looking like a toddler for half an hour."

"What do they do?" Harry asked curiously.

"Each time you lose a trick in the game, you get a little younger." George winked, "Of course, if you're as bad at cards as Ron here, you get to relive your babyhood."

"You made a rather cute two year old Ron." Fred laughed.

"You two rigged it." Ron grumbled.

"Now Harry? Does that sound like us?" Fred had a hurt expression on his face.

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "Yes."

George grinned, "Guilty as charged. Well we needed someone to test it on Ron, just think, without you, all these people couldn't have had hours of endless amusement."

"I'm honoured." Ron replied darkly.

"So," Harry said quickly, "do either of you know how Hermione is getting here?"

"Nope." Fred and George replied together. Fred elaborated, "There haven't been any Order meetings since you came here, so we haven't had a chance to find out. Dumbledore hadn't told a soul where they were though I don't think, so I doubt we'd have been told anyway. Bill is off somewhere for the Order, so he might be involved… Although we know for a fact that Dad is off somewhere else…"

"In short, your guess is as good as ours." George concluded.

There was a knock on the door, before Ron or Harry could say anything else, and Ginny appeared.

"Hi Harry." She said in a voice that wasn't quite as bright as usual. "Mum says she thought she asked you two to tell them dinner was ready."

"So she did!" Fred replied. "Well Harry, well Ron, Mum says dinner's ready." The twins swept out the door, and Harry, Ron and Ginny shared glances before following behind.

"I hear you've had an eventful summer Harry." Ginny said quietly.

"Not until a few days ago. Dull as History of Magic class before that. I did meet Snape once though. That was fun." Harry replied with a slight smile.

Ginny giggled, "He was his usual charming self I take it?"

"Oh yeah, and then some!" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, as they walked down the stairs to the bottom floor. "I swear he thought we were still in Hogwarts. I was expecting him to say 'fifty points from Gryffindor' at any minute. All for daring to leave the house and try to walk down to the park."

"I would say he can't be that bad, 'cept I know he can. Come on! I'm starving!" Ron hissed.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and they tiptoed past Mrs Black's portrait, into the kitchen, where a steaming array of foods had been laid out. Mrs Weasley had obviously taken the task of fattening Harry up seriously.

"Ah! There you are Harry." Mrs Weasley said, wiping her hands on a tea towel, and then carrying a large jug of pumpkin juice to the table. "We may as well get started – I've no idea when Hermione and the others will get here. Remus, if you wouldn't mind carving please?"

"Of course Molly." Lupin replied genially, as everybody took their seats.

There was far too much food for Harry, Ron, Ginny, the twins, Lupin, Mrs Weasley, Charlie, and Tonks to get even half way through – or so Harry thought – but despite Harry's small appetite, the others ate with gusto, and empty dishes started to appear in front of them. Just as Mrs Weasley swatted Ron's hand away from a serving spoon to offer Harry a second helping (as opposed to Ron's fourth), the doorbell clanged loudly, causing Mrs Black to shriek even more so, and an even _louder_ explosion of sound came from the table, as people scrambled to get up to answer the door, and shut Mrs Black up.

It was Bill Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody and, a wet, slightly queasy looking, Hermione.

"I am never, ever, going within ten foot of a broomstick again." She declared, slumping against the wall, bags falling out of her hands, and trunk being levitated past her by the aged auror.

Bill laughed heartily, especially once he saw the inquisitive looks on his family and Harry's faces.

"You didn't fly here in this?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Not in this, nah. Just on the way here. Where's your sense of adventure Hermione?" Bill replied, still chuckling. "Admit it! It was fun!"

"Fun." Hermione said weakly, now hugging Ginny, who had helped her back onto her feet. "You call portkeying to a spot five thousand metres above the ground on a broomstick fun!"

"Hey that does sound like fun," Said George, "fancy giving it a try tomorrow Harry?"

Harry however, much as he enjoyed flying, didn't think it sounded particularly enjoyable at all, so he ignored George.

"So you had a safe trip then Hermione?" He asked, in an innocent voice.

Hermione just glared at him.

"Safest way we could get you here lass." Mad-Eye growled, reappearing after taking Hermione's trunk upstairs. "No chance of being spotted where there are no people. Virtually impossible to track too."

"Right then you lot." Mrs Weasley interrupted them. "We were just eating dinner, so there is plenty of food on the table if you want to recover from your journey."

"Thanks Mum." Bill said grinning, as he made his way into the kitchen, followed by the stumping Moody, and still slightly green Hermione.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So, how _did_ you get here?" Ron asked when he, Harry, Ginny and Hermione had found a bit of space to themselves. He grinned and continued. "I mean, apart from taking a flying Portkey and all."

"Very funny Ron." A collected Hermione responded. "Well, Bill and Moody met us in Austrai-"

"Don't say it." Harry said quickly, but it was too late.

Hermione looked at him quizzically, "Harry, what-"

"What if Voldemort finds out where you and your parents are through me?" Harry groaned.

Hermione stiffened slightly, before relaxing and continuing. "Oh, that's okay. They've already moved on somewhere else. And Australia's a big place you know."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to put you and your family at risk." Harry said, with a hint of self anger in his voice.

Hermione stared into space for a few seconds, obviously thinking hard.

"So," Ginny prompted, "how did you get here?"

"Sorry. Well, Dumbledore went to move on elsewhere with my parents. I don't know where they've gone myself. We took one of those stupid Portkeys into midair, before landing and taking another one." Hermione said in a voice which carried a similar amount of disapproval to the one she used when Harry or Ron didn't do their homework. "Then we landed in – somewhere else – so we could take an international Portkey to Europe, and did the same until we landed in Scotland, and took the Knight Bus down here."

Ron whistled. "Sounds a bit dangerous alright."

"A bit!" Hermione said furiously. "I fell off the broom once!"

"Er…" Ron and Harry began with worried expressions.

"Bill caught me on his broomstick. He'd already apparated to the spot in case anything happened." Hermione explained impatiently, as if they ought to have known that.

Ron sighed. "Good job Bill!"

"And it was a practice one from not very high up, onto a net." Hermione continued, with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

Ginny launched herself at Hermione with a cushion in her hands; Ron closed his eyes, and muttered something under his breath. Harry, however, surreptitiously sent a light tickling charm towards Hermione.

Hermione, being pummelled mercilessly by Ginny, was also giggling uncontrollable at the invisible hands that were traversing her body, finding her vulnerable spots and tickling them. "Stop it Ginny." She gasped at last. "Stop tickling me."

"I'm not," Ginny said surprised, and giving Hermione some respite by withdrawing to take a look, "see?"

"Okay. Wh- Who is it? Fr- Fr- Fred? George? Y- You know I can't do magic… Stop it!"

Harry shared a grin with Ron, and then they took out their wands, flourished them in a Lockhart-esque manner, and bellowed, "Finite Incantatem!"

Hermione's face was a picture. Her face briefly fought to stop laughing and her expression changed to one of complete horror, until she then looked at them as if they had gone mad. Ginny had succeeded in putting a passable imitation of shock on her face also, and avoided Hermione's eyes by staring at the two boys, giving them the smallest of winks from the eye Hermione couldn't see.

"You IDIOTS! Have you gone completely insane? Is it not enough we have to go to one trial, without you two trying to get yourselves expelled and arrested too?" Harry and Ron just grinned at her. "I don't believe it… you two have lost your minds, don't you know what you just did?"

"You want to tell her, or shall I?" Ron asked Harry.

"Go ahead." Harry winked back.

"The Ministry… don't know we did magic." Ron began. "They might know that some underage wizard somewhere did some magic, but… not us."

"I- What? How!" Hermione demanded.

"As long as we stay in Grimmauld Place, no-one can know we did magic." Harry grinned.

"Why?" Hermione asked, desperately trying to work out the conundrum.

"Because of the Fidelius charm." Ginny explained impatiently.

"Ginny!" Ron yelped. "We were enjoying that!"

"Yeah, it's fun knowing something Hermione doesn't for a change." Harry chortled.

"Because of the Fi- Oh!" Hermione said in a tone of realisation, her eyes widening.

"Don't say we should have known it sooner." Ron said warningly.

"But we should have! Of course! It all makes sense. How _could_ the Ministry know that we were doing underage magic without breaking the charm? But - but how did you know?"

"Worked it out of course." Ron said with a straight face. "I mean, it is kind of obvious when you think about it. Nearly killed me when I realised we could have done magic in the holidays."

Harry sniggered uncontrollably, as Hermione looked at Ron in absolute surprise. "You worked it out?"

"Yeah." Ron replied nonchalantly.

"Of course he didn't." Ginny said smiling, as Harry finally laughed out loud. "Professor Dumbledore told them."

So Harry found himself explaining the events at Privet Drive, and then Hogwarts once more, to both Ginny and Hermione. Ginny had only heard about it second hand from Ron, of course, and Hermione had learnt even less from Ron's letter. He didn't mention the subsequent dream. Hermione's eyes never left him, and she demanded to know what was being done about it. Harry could tell he was about to be interrogated.

He soon found himself talking about the Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, how exactly he'd spent his time in Grimmauld Place, and even, although he wasn't sure how, referring to the decoration charms in use in each room.

"Oh!" Ginny cut in excitedly, after Harry had mentioned how he and Lupin had been practicing charms and curses, "So you've already got more things lined up for the DA next year then?"

Ron snickered behind his hand, as Harry half banged his head against the back of the chair he was sitting in. "I don't know whether we should keep the DA going or not. Or if I want to keep doing it." He added, as Hermione and Ginny opened their mouths to argue. "Just, give me a while to decide could you?"

"It's not too bad." Ron cut in before either of the girls could say anything. "It's not too difficult to persuade him to practice spells with you. I got him to go over Patronuses again earlier."

"Was yours corporeal this time?" Hermione asked interestedly.

Ron's ears went slightly red at the tips. "Yeah." He grunted, slightly offended.

Hermione blushed too. "I didn't mean…"

"Go on then, show us Ron." Ginny interrupted, and Harry gave her a grateful look for stopping the possible argument.

Ron looked so pleased to be asked, that Harry couldn't help but say mischievously, as Ron was about to cast the spell, "So you don't think your Patronus is a Grim anymore Ron?"

"Git." Ron hissed, as he nearly dropped his wand, and Ginny gave a giggle.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Load of superstitious nonsense." She muttered under her breath.

The next time Ron tried to cast the Patronus, it was fully formed, and its large handsome dark features seemed to shine, as it sprinted towards the doorway, and then disappeared. It looked nothing like Sirius' dog-form; that much was obvious to Harry now.

Harry looked up from the doorway to find Hermione's eyes fixed on him again, although she quickly looked back to Ron when they made eye contact, and she saw Harry's angry glare.

Ginny turned back to her brother too. "Well I can kind of see how you thought it looked like a Grim. I wouldn't worry though, seeing as only people supposedly about to die can see the Grim and we all saw it, obviously."

"How comforting." Harry inserted dryly.

"Very funny." Ginny scowled, in a don't-say-things-like-that voice. "And anyway, you'd just have to cast your Patronus at passing Death Eaters and they'd kick the bucket."

"I wouldn't worry Ron." Hermione cut in next. "If all that rubbish was true it'd be quite useful to have the dog that haunts graveyards protecting you as your Patronus. After all in a lot of ancient cultures big dogs are the guardians of the underworld, which must be where the Grim myth comes from." She sniffed.

"There you go Ron!" Harry ended, "You're being protected by the guardian of the underworld, that's pretty impressive!"

"If you've quite finished making fun of my Patronus…" Ron said grumpily. "How come my Patronus didn't circuit the room and then come back to me like Lupin and yours did Harry?"

"Dunno." Harry replied. "Maybe it just takes practice."

"It's because Patronuses can sense how their caster is feeling." Hermione explained. "The less threat or danger there is to its master, or the happier its owner is feeling, the less time it stays around for." She looked surprised at their inquiring faces. "I read it in _Defence of the Spirit, Defence of the Mind_ by _Augustin Pilato_."

"Honestly, I don't know why I still get surprised when you come up with things like that." Ron said shaking his head. "So what does it mean if they come back to you, and guard you then?"

"Did that happen to Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well," Hermione began, and it almost looked as if she was choosing her words carefully, "returning to the owner and staying with them usually means that the person that summoned it has an uneasy mind, or needs some sort of protection. Patronuses project pure, positive emotions, and so they can calm a person's mind."

"So are you trying to say I'm a nutcase or something?" Harry began hotly.

"No!" Hermione said hastily, "No, that's not what I mean at all. It might have… It might have been trying to protect you from Legilimency or help you with your Occlumency, or defend you in that way." She turned away, but still looked sideways at Harry. "Have you talked to anyone about Sirius at all?" She bit her lip almost as quickly as the words had tumbled out of her mouth, as if the question had slipped out without meaning it to.

"No." Harry said bluntly. "And I don't want to either, so don't start."

"Harry, you need to talk to someone about him, if you don't…" Hermione began.

"I told you Hermione, don't start." Harry said warningly, his voice rising.

"How can you deal with it if you won't talk about it?" Hermione was doing her best to keep calm, as if determined to go through with what she wanted to say, now that she had started.

"Hermione!" Harry nearly yelled, but it was Ginny that stopped her.

"Harry, calm down. Hermione, you're not going to get him to want to talk about it like that. Let's not talk about it at the moment, okay?" She said firmly.

Hermione glared at Ginny, but the younger girl held her gaze unafraid.

"So, Harry, what's the trial going to be like?" Ron asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I'm not that sure." Harry said nervously. "My trial was kind of simple, either I did the magic around Muggles for no reason, or I didn't. I guess Snape might have witnesses, and so might Fudge. I really don't know what's going to happen."

"Mum's going to take you there," Ginny interrupted, "and I'm going to try and get her to let me come along too. I might be able to help, and I can at least give you guys support."

"They won't let either of you in with us." Harry told her, "Your dad wasn't allowed to come into the court with me last year. The two of you will have to wait outside."

"I should be there." Ginny said stubbornly. "I was there that night too. I don't care if I have to wait for you outside the courtroom – I should be there."

"I dunno Gin." Ron shook his head. "I doubt Mum will let you come."

"She's already said no." Ginny said. "But I can work on her."

Hermione was quiet, the remnants of a scowl were still on her face, and she didn't say much for the rest of the night.

When Ron and Ginny left for the night, to return to the Burrow, Hermione still looked exceptionally put out, and she soon after went to bed herself, with a frosty goodnight to Harry. When Harry went up to bed, he tossed and turned, trying to store away his memories as Dumbledore wanted him too, but soon gave up, and reached over for the bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion, quite aware that he would have the same things preying on his mind when he woke up.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

In Harry's next few Occlumency lessons, Dumbledore began to show him defensive techniques, but it wasn't, like Snape had made it, an ordeal, but rather a guide through the process of what happens. Dumbledore wasn't so much instructing him, as explaining how Legilimency worked.

Harry stood, wand in front of him, facing Dumbledore. He had just forced Professor Dumbledore out of his mind by the same technique as he had used against Snape a couple of months earlier. When Protego had repelled the spell however, Harry barely saw a flash of colour before being forced out of Dumbledore's mind.

"Very good." Dumbledore smiled. "Severus informed me that you had made progress at that particular defence. However, this defence is the most basic, and therefore the easiest to be defeated. Few wizards, if any, can maintain this defence successfully for a long period of time. That is not to say it is useless, by any means. The stronger the _vacuefacio_ defence, which is its name, the easier it is to utilise other defences."

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued.

"Occlumency and Legilimency ultimately cause a battle of minds, or wills to take place, not unlike the Imperius curse, or the priori incantatem effect that you encountered when your wand duelled with Voldemort's. The Legilimens spell strengthens the will of the attacker, and Occlumency techniques weaken it, or strengthen the defender's, or both. What you have been doing, when you have been storing your memories away, is giving yourself something to protect, if Tom, or some other Legilimens manages to circumvent your defences. Let me show you."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry, and said softly, "Legilimens."

It was a strange experience for Harry. Automatically, he had tried to clear his mind, and push out Dumbledore, but it almost seemed to be brushed aside. Rather than flashes of memories, Harry's vision blurred, until all he could see was darkness. He wasn't standing on anything, but rather floating. Professor Dumbledore was also here, and, as Harry looked around, he also noticed the cupboards that he had placed his memories into. Each cupboard had a name describing its contents, although Harry hadn't named them when they were created, or when he used them normally.

Dumbledore's voice echoed in Harry's head, almost as if he wasn't really hearing it, but it was being transmitted directly into Harry's mind.

"This," He said, "is where the final fight for control occurs: wherever you have stored your memories. You have the advantage, as the Occlumens, of choosing the rules for the location. You can make it look like a certain place, you can prevent people from speaking if you so wish, whatever specific rules you feel like. The Legilimens has to both discover where the memories they seek are, and to find a way to retrieve them. The stronger the Legilimens, or the more general your rules are, the more likely they can break the rules you have put in place, and find your memories. The stronger the Occlumens' initial defences, the less chance there is of that happening." Dumbledore's body shifted before Harry's eyes, until he seemed to just vanish.

"What can be done in here is only limited by the minds of the two combatants. An Occlumens has to create the laws that narrow this down." Dumbledore reappeared, and simply held out his hand to one of the cupboards and it appeared beside him. "Now, concentrate on trying to drive me out of your mind, Harry."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, willing him out of his head. A few seconds later, they were facing each other once more. Harry almost fell forward from disorientation.

"Excellent." Dumbledore said, approvingly. "I will allow you to absorb this overnight, and we can continue exploring it after tomorrow. For now, I think we should introduce another defensive technique. _Inculco_, is a technique where you attempt to force a Legilimens…"

By the time the lesson had ended, if nothing else, Harry had learnt exactly why Snape and Dumbledore had explained the subject as being complex, and taking a long time to master. He had the distinct impression that there were plenty more types of defence other than _inculco_, or _vacuefacio_ and that Dumbledore could sweep away any of Harry's current defences with ease. Dumbledore had left him with the promise that he would explain exactly how to create the rules in his final refuge after the trial.

As Harry was walking upstairs to look through some of his Defence Against the Dark Arts books, a delighted shriek came from the Black's drawing room. Hermione's ecstasy, however, had caused the curtains in front of Mrs Black's painting to burst open.

"BLOOD TRAITORS, FILTH, SCUM! LEAVE MY HOUSE VILE BYPRODUCTS OF DIRT!" When she saw Harry, who had drawn his wand, ready to try to stun her painting, she gave an even louder scream of rage. "YOU! HOW DARE YOU ATTACK MY HOUSE ELF? FILTHY HALF-BLOOD! HOW DARE YOU INHABIT A HOUSE THAT HAS BELONGED TO PUREBLOODS FOR CENTURIES? HOW DARE YOU DEFOUL MY PROPERTY, AND HARM MY SERVENTS!"

Hermione's face looked downstairs sheepishly, and Ron and Ginny both ran downstairs with her to give Harry a hand.

"Shut up you old cow!" Harry yelled back, "Or I'll burn your painting!"

Mrs Black spluttered with rage. "FOOLISH CHILD! PUREBLOODS PROTECT THEIR PROPERTY WITH ONLY THE STRONGEST CHARMS, WEAK MUDBLOODS OR HALFBLOODS LIKE YOU COULD DO NOTHING. ONCE YOU FORSAKE THE WIZARDING WAY YOUR POWERS ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO OURS! NOW GO! GO OR I SHALL MAKE YOU LEAVE!"

"Want a bet?" Harry said, raising his wand. "We could always find out."

But Ron and Hermione's hands on his shoulders forced his wand down, and together, the three of them managed to close the curtains on Mrs Black's shrieks, while Ginny stunned the other paintings, and soon there was silence once more.

"Sorry Harry." Hermione whispered. "But wait until you see what we just found!"

She practically ran back up the stairs, and Harry looked around at the two Weasleys in surprise. They didn't look quite as enthusiastic as Hermione, but followed behind. When they went through the drawing room door, Harry looked around, slightly bemused.

"What?" He asked Hermione.

"Oh! It's sealed itself." Hermione answered in mild surprise. "Here, let me show you how we found out."

"Hermione! What are you talking about?" Harry asked exasperated.

"Look!" She answered excitedly, pointing to a piece of paper which seemed to be showing a square box.

"Okay, I'm looking. Now mind tell me what's going on?"

"It's a _mapping_ charm." Hermione said impatiently. "I was reading about some of the things we're going to be doing this year, and thought I might try them out. I think that's how your father, Sirius, and Professor Lupin made the Marauders Map, well, and tracking charms of course. But look!" She pointed at the map. "There's a little room behind the family tree."

"A room?" Harry asked suddenly eager, "Have you got in there yet?"

"Of course, look!" Hermione pointed her wand at the tapestry of the Black family tree, and said, clearly, "Oscul Majora!"

The wall seemed to shimmer slightly, and then swung open, seemingly creating a door when none had been before. Inside was a room about as large as two big broom cupboards, but amazingly, ten foot high. Inside the room, along the three sides away from the door, were books. Hundreds of neatly stored books, stacked on shelves up to the magically enhanced ceiling, with wheeled ladders stretching up to the very top so that a witch or wizard could reach the topmost tomes. In the middle of the room was a small desk, so that people could do the research away from the drawing room, Harry supposed.

Hermione's face was shining with excitement, "This is amazing!" She gushed. "Just think of the age of some of these books!"

Ron walked forward, into the room, and took a book from the shelf. "'Bloodlines and Purity'," he read, "by Jean Eleanor Alogie. Sounds useful."

"Well, you have to expect a certain amount of books not to be of much use." Hermione replied unruffled, taking a book out herself, "How about this – no… maybe not this one – here we go! 'Dark Arts – Pushing the Law to its Limits' by Lenora Black, I guess one of the older Blacks was an author."

"Do you think the Order knows about this Harry?" Ginny asked.

"They must do," Harry said, "Sirius grew up here, he would have known about it."

Hermione was now examining the titles of books on the bottom shelves, and collecting a pile of them, obviously to look through later, on the little desk. She only stopped when Ginny continued to speak.

"I wonder why they didn't tell us about it then. I never saw anyone really reading anything that might have come from here."

"Maybe they didn't trust us to be able to read books about the Dark Arts, without being corrupted." Harry said sourly.

Just then, a book that Hermione had taken down from a shelf flew open, screaming. Its pages flew open to a page depicting gruesome acts, and the power that the protagonists gained as a result. Harry found himself interested in reading what was written, and Ginny and Ron also started to show more interest in the book. Quick as a flash, Hermione drew her wand, and tapped it, muttering 'carontalas'. The book fell silent at once, and made no struggle when Hermione closed its pages and returned it to the shelf. The urge to peruse its pages left Harry immediately.

"Maybe that's why." She said. "I suppose a lot of these books would belong to the restricted section if they were in Hogwarts, and without being able to use a wand to control them, they might be quite dangerous."

Ron nodded his head fervently. "Some books can trick you into reading them, and are so persuasive they can make you do things you wouldn't normally. Especially the older books, there are laws against that kind of book nowadays. Dad told me about a family that found one, and ended up jinxing each other whenever something happened to upset them. They'd refuse to apply the anti-jinx too, it wasn't pretty he said, and that was one of the less harmful ones. They were in St Mungos for weeks."

"We'd only have been able to get in here if we knew the password anyway." Hermione continued. "And we might have needed our wands for that too."

"Yeah, how did you know the password Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I didn't. That was an unlocking spell I read during the summer. Alohomora or the other ones we learnt in school didn't work so I tried it. It's part Celtic, and isn't very well known according to 'Gaelic Charms of the Middle Ages'. The author of the book kept refining it to make it stronger, and it works differently to the other ones. It's fascinating really," Hermione enthused, "how he took the charm, and discovered how it worked, and combined it with other spells he knew."

"Er, okay." Harry said, trying to cut her off before she really got started on the subject. "But what about the mapping charm? Could we make something like a Marauder's Map of Grimmauld Place?"

"We could try, but I don't know how they did it. Maybe we can ask Professor Lupin."

"Remus." Ron corrected with a grin.

Hermione returned to eagerly searching the mini-library for books, while Harry, Ron, and Ginny spent a more leisurely time experimenting with the mapping charm Hermione had used, and discussing the trial that was due to take place tomorrow. Ginny had successfully persuaded Mrs Weasley to allow her to go with them, and they were due to floo in together to the Ministry early morning before the trial began. Harry started to feel a slightly nervous sensation around his stomach. Whatever happened tomorrow, he was certain he'd find himself talking about things he'd rather forget.


	6. Trials

**Chapter 6: Trials… **

At half past eight in the morning the next day, Harry staggered out of the fireplace, ignoring the sniggers of the Ministry officials who were directing people in and out of the floo network. Mrs Weasley grabbed him, and started brushing the soot off him, but it was hardly necessary – the Ministry kept their fireplaces well swept. Harry's stomach lurched as he noticed that the Fountain of Magical Brethren was no longer in its pride of place. There was nothing there now – just a cordoned off empty space on a polished floor.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all trying (and failing) to look at him surreptitiously to see how he was reacting to being back here. He would have been irritated by this continued concern, but he was too busy attempting to escape the clutches of Mrs Weasley and his brisk brushing down, to do more than send the occasional glare at them. Ginny got the message, but Ron and Hermione seemed to be obstinately ignoring his annoyance.

"Names and purpose of visit?" A lanky young wizard, who looked like he was barely out of school drawled, in a voice that reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy.

"I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my son Ron, his friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, who are here to attend a Wizengamot hearing, and this is my daughter Ginny." Mrs Weasley pointed out each student in turn.

The wizard, whose name tag declared him as Jonas Birch, stared at Harry for a long time, until Mrs Weasley gave a sharp cough, and he was jogged back to his senses. His forehead creased as he looked up and down a clipboard, before his mouth formed a silent 'O', and he waved his wand at the parchment in front of him. He made four tick motions with his wand, and then paused.

"Hang on! There's no Ginny Weasley down here." He said, almost aggressively, Harry felt.

"She isn't going to go in to the hearing – she's going to wait outside with me."

"I'm sorry Mrs… Weasley? Only the witnesses and their guardians may proceed to the courtroom level. Your daughter will have to return home." There was very little apology in the man's voice, and he seemed more fixated on staring at Harry's forehead than trying to do his job.

Mrs Weasley bristled. "If you think I am going to leave my youngest daughter on her own at home, when You-Know-Who has returned, you have another thing coming to you."

"I'm sorry ma'am but it is not up to me, I have my orders."

The Ministry official tried to glare at Mrs Weasley, but he soon found, as so many had before him, that he was facing a woman who could cow all but the fiercest of adversaries.

"Do you have children Mr Birch? Would you leave them at home and risk seeing the Dark Mark above your house when you return?"

Mrs Weasley's voice was rising shrilly, and people were turning to look at them now. She couldn't care less about this attention, but the junior official was looking around nervously at the other Ministry workers.

"How dare you suggest I should leave her behind? But the Ministry doesn't care much for us witches and wizards and our families do they? You knew that You-Know-Who was back last year, but you refused to tell us, didn't you."

"Settle down Madam." A wizard said from her side. "What is the problem Jonas?"

Mrs Weasley responded before Jonas Birch could get a word in. "This man is refusing to allow my child to come with me while we wait for the trial to finish. I shall not leave her at home while You-Know-Who is around."

Several witches and wizards were trying to hear what was happening, and one witch in the queue that was forming behind them whispered something to her neighbour.

Perhaps it was this that made the new wizard say swiftly, "I see no problem with that Jonas, let them through."

Jonas Birch opened his mouth to say something, and then obviously thought better of it. "Yes sir."

He conjured up badges and handed them to Harry, Ron and Hermione, which read: 'Witness – Wizengamot Trial'. Mrs Weasley had a badge describing her as 'Guardian – Wizengamot Trial'. Ginny was a 'Visitor – Courtroom Level Clearance'.

"Excuse me." He said cautiously, as they made to move away, "Where are the Guardians of the other two children?"

"Their Guardians are Muggles." Mrs Weasley said brusquely, "Their Magical Guardian is therefore their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who is in the Wizengamot."

"Oh. You can go then." He said to their retreating backs.

As they weaved slowly through the crowd of Ministry workers, past the area where the fountain had been, images of the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort flashed through Harry's mind – how Dumbledore had shielded him using the figures from the fountain, how Fawkes had got in the way of a killing curse that had been meant for Dumbledore, how Voldemort, when seemingly beaten by Dumbledore, had tried to possess Harry. Harry winced as his scar gave a huge jolt, and then glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Hermione had, and he glared at her as she opened her mouth, shaking his head. Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley however, were reading a sign where the fountain had been. Harry turned from Hermione to read it too.

_After the desecration of the Fountain of Magical Brethren by He Who Must Not Be Named, the Ministry of Magic are proud to announce that a new centrepiece shall be constructed by the well known sculptor Edvard de Flamente, with the theme of the Solidity of the Magical Community once more to be prominent. An announcement will follow in the Daily Prophet as to the date of the Opening Ceremony._

_Minister Cornelius Fudge, Order of Merlin First Class._

"Who's this Edvard de Flamente chap?" Ron asked.

"No idea." Harry replied. "Sounds foreign."

"That's because he is." Ginny inserted exasperatedly. "He's German. He made the Monument of Majesty for the German Ministry of Magic."

"Never heard of it." Ron said.

"Sounds a bit… I dunno…"

"Pretentious?" Hermione supplied for Harry. "Should fit right in with Minister Fudge then."

"Sounds like Gild-" Ron began, and then hastily changed his sentence when he caught sight of his mother. "Like it'll cost a lot of gold. Bet he's getting lots of Galleons for it."

Harry quickly changed his laugh to a cough, amused at the sight of two female faces, angry at the slight that was almost levelled at Gilderoy Lockhart. He got a couple of glares for this too.

"He's supposedly a fabulous artist." Mrs Weasley told them, while still shooting Ron a hard look. "People travel for miles to see his work."

"Supposedly." Ron muttered loud enough for just Harry to hear him. "Bet he's as bad as Lockhart."

"With any luck we won't meet him then." Harry whispered back, as they continued onwards towards the golden gateway which led to the elevator, where they surrendered their wands to the witch there – a severe looking woman named Helga Burns, who was seated at the security desk, reading Witch Weekly.

"You're here for the hearing, are you?" She asked, and then continued without waiting for a reply. "It's in courtroom four – I'll call for someone to take you down."

"It's okay, we know the way." Harry offered.

"Yes, well, you would wouldn't you?" She sniffed disapprovingly, and didn't even try to hide a scowl. She then spoke into something on her desk, "Eddie? They're here, can you take them down to the courtroom please."

"Not a fan." Ron whispered to Harry, who glared back as Ginny snickered.

Eddie seemed to be Helga Burns' son, as he looked younger than Ginny, although Harry couldn't remember seeing him in Hogwarts. He was short and slightly on the plump side, and seemed to have none of his mother's dislike of Harry, who pursed her lips as he approached them excitedly. Once they recovered their wands, Eddie led them to the elevator, and kept stealing idolising glances of Harry. Harry was reminded slightly of the Creevey brothers.

"Did you really duel with" he lowered his voice, "You-Know-Who?"

Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed, and Harry simply replied "Yes, I did." He left it at that.

Eddie, however, wasn't satisfied, and kept trying to find out more from Harry. He soon found this a hard job, and ended up being scolded by Mrs Weasley each time he asked a question. Eddie, who had he been a Weasley would have been frightened into compliance a while ago (Harry felt Mrs Weasley was holding back), finally gave up.

"Alright, keep your hair on!" He said grumpily to Mrs Weasley, before turning back to Harry again. "What's Hogwarts like?"

"Why? Aren't you in first year yet?" Harry asked, astonished.

"I'm thirteen!" Eddie replied indignantly, "Just… Mum wouldn't let me go. I get tutored at home during term time."

"Why wouldn't she let you go?" Ron asked.

"She just… wouldn't." He answered lamely. "What's Albus Dumbledore like?"

"Brilliant." Ron grinned. "He's a bit crazy –"

"Ron!" Mrs Weasley admonished.

"What? He is!" Ron replied. "He's an absolute genius though. Knows almost everything."

"When you say he's a bit crazy…" Eddie began, and Hermione broke in, as if she understood something the rest of them didn't.

"He's not lost his marbles or anything. He'll just have a joke and a laugh with people. If you want to know what he's like you should read 'Great Wizards of Our Times'. It's got a great description of him in the first chapter." Behind Hermione's back, Ron rolled his eyes.

"So he's not…?"

"No." Hermione answered firmly.

Eddie continued to fire questions at them about Hogwarts for the rest of the ride in the elevator, and Harry was glad of it. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny fielded most of the questions, allowing him to fall back into the background, as other people got on and off. Mrs Weasley kept looking at him with a worried expression on her face. The two of them were the only ones that remained silent, as they walked down the stairs to the courtroom.

"We'll wait here." Mrs Weasley told Harry, Ron and Hermione, as Eddie pointed to the big heavy oaken double doors that led the way into the courtroom. She conjured two chairs. "Good luck, and if you don't know what to say, let Professor Dumbledore help you. Remember – he's innocent."

Mrs Weasley gave them each a hug, and to Harry's surprise, Ginny did as well. She looked just as terrified as any of them, and she whispered a 'Good Luck' as they turned to the doors.

"Well, here we go." Ron said, trying to sound confident.

He took a deep breath, and walked forward, pushing one of the doors. They swung open on their own magically, revealing a crowd of people who looked down upon them from the upper tier. The three of them stared into the room for a few seconds, and the Wizengamot stared back.

Harry stepped into the courtroom, flanked on either side by Hermione and Ron, and watched by a nervous Ginny, before the door swung shut once more. Like Ron had done, he took a deep breath as he looked around. Many witches and wizards from the Wizengamot were seated in the upper circle. On the left, where the elders sat, Harry recognised Madam Bones and Dumbledore to her right, who had stood as the doors opened. Cornelius Fudge sat on the other side of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Harry caught his breath as he gazed into the eyes of Dolores Umbridge, reinstated Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. She gave him a sickly sweet smile, as if content that everything was pre-arranged to her satisfaction.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," Madam Bones' voice boomed out, "Thank you for coming. If you could take your seats opposite us please, we shall get started soon enough."

They looked across to the right, as one, where there was a semicircle of completely empty seats. They gave each other nervous smiles, but said nothing, as they took their seats. Directly across from them, there were two men sitting down together. The men looked friends, or at the very least, acquaintances. The rest of the lower circle was empty.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione said very little as they counted down the minutes until nine o'clock, and it seemed to be an agonisingly long wait to Harry. He was starting to wish they had been as late as he had been to his hearing last year. It was infinitely preferable to the nervous wait they had now. Now and then, the doors opened, and witches and wizards entered, sometimes giving small waves to people they knew, before climbing the stairs up to the top tier, to take their seats. Finally, a loud gong, followed by a clock's chimes, signalled it was time to begin.

"Very well," Madam Bones said, when the chimes had died down, "bring in the accused."

Severus Snape walked into the room, flanked by aurors on either side. Hermione let out a sharp gasp. Snape was in chains. Remarkably, he was looking almost unfazed, and managed to glide across the room despite the clinking of metal. Looking around the court, he seemed extremely disdainful of the whole proceedings. Even when he sat down in the chair, in the middle of the room, and the chains from the chair linked with the manacles on his hands and feet, he allowed no sign of fear to escape him. His guards sat opposite Harry and the others, and Harry recognised one of them as Dawlish – one of the Aurors that had accompanied Fudge to Dumbledore's office all those weeks ago.

"Severus Snape, you stand here accused of helping He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named in his attempt to learn of a Prophecy made about both he, and Harry Potter. You stand furthermore accused of returning to the Death Eaters, under He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's leadership. Before we start, do you have anything to say about the charges?"

Snape sat back in the chair. "Only that the charges are completely unfounded, and ludicrous in extreme." He sneered. "If I had indeed been helping the Dark Lord, then I would not have warned the Minister of his return over a year ago."

There was a mutter around the Wizengamot, and Fudge stood up.

"The court recognises Minister Fudge." Madam Bones acknowledged, and sat back into her seat.

Fudge gathered his notes, and cleared his throat. "I am quite aware of the words you told me a year ago, Severus Snape, I am also aware that you were acting under orders from Albus Dumbledore, and that to do anything other than to declare his return would have compromised your role as a spy. However, we are here to decide upon your innocence, or guilt," He let the word hang a little in the air, "and either prevent you from continuing to spy for You-Know-Who, or else clear you of all charges."

"I am glad you haven't prejudged me." Snape replied, his lip curling.

Harry was amazed at how Snape was keeping his emotions in check, especially as he himself seemed to have an uncanny ability to rile Snape up. The watching witches and wizards leant forward as one, as if to intimidate Snape, but Snape just sat there, as if there was not even at a trial at all. He did not have the regality, which Bellatrix Lestrange had displayed on the same chair, but rather the comfortable poise that someone might take if they were having a fireside chat with a colleague.

Fudge ignored him. "Will you be calling forward any witnesses?"

"I see no need." Professor Snape replied.

"Why don't we begin then?" Fudge smiled at the court. "You are Severus Snape, Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, resident of 32 Willow Road, Oxford, are you not?"

"I am."

"What do you teach at Hogwarts?"

"I am the Potions Master."

"From the inspections carried out by the Inquisitor of Hogwarts last year, I see that you have annually applied to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Is there any special reason for this?"

"I have had significant experience of the Dark Arts, both during my time as one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and after I became a spy in their midst for Professor Dumbledore, and the Ministry. I believed that my knowledge would be of use to students." Snape replied coolly.

"And yet you have never been granted the post?" Fudge asked incredulously, but continued before Snape had a chance to reply. "Could you please describe the relationship between yourself and Harry Potter." It wasn't a question, it was an order.

As one, the room looked at Harry, who started. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought to be involved as someone who would be used to convict Snape, but rather as a witness for his defence. For a split second he enjoyed the idea of sending Snape to Azkaban, but a quick glare from Hermione put paid to that idea. Besides, giving Umbridge her come-uppance and causing Fudge further trouble was just as nice really.

"I fail to see the relevance of the question, Minister." Snape replied, his mouth thinning ever so slightly.

"The question of your relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived, Professor Snape? I would have thought it was obvious. Mr Potter over there defeated the 'Dark Lord' as you called him. Mr Potter was lured by the 'Dark Lord' to the Prophecy Room in the Department of Mysteries. The question that needs to be answered is how he achieved this. Who would help him to lure Harry Potter to the Ministry, and why?"

"Mr Potter is a student at the school I teach, Minister Fudge. I treat him, as I treat any student. Often people indulge him because of his unusual status in the wizarding world. I try to keep his feet upon the ground."

"So you would often take House Points off him, for example? Or give him detentions?" Fudge persisted.

"Yes, if the occasion warranted it."

"Tell me, how many points have you taken from Mr Potter in his time at school?"

"I really have no idea." Snape replied, in an almost bored voice now.

"So we may assume it is quite a lot then. More, or less, than most other students?" Fudge asked.

Umbridge's smirk had been getting wider and wider as each question was asked.

"As I said, Minister, I penalise Mr Potter when the occasion warrants it. As it happens, Mr Potter often believes he can get away with more than the average student, because of the way his _popularity_ impacts the way he is treated." Snape let out the first sign of irritation Harry had seen so far.

"Indeed? How enlightening." Fudge was playing to the crowd here, with the skill of an accomplished public speaker that had worked himself into office. "I would ask the former Inquisitor of Hogwarts, and my Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge to put this into perspective. If you would, Dolores?"

"Hem, hem." Umbridge stood up, clearing her throat in the breathy voice Harry remembered.

"From observation, and consultation of the School Hourglasses, that record the house points, Professor Severus Snape took away three times as many points from Gryffindor as either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. From his own house, he took away virtually nothing. Likewise, he awarded practically no points to Gryffindor. Over a quarter of all points deducted from Gryffindor by Professor Snape were taken from Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger combined. It should also be noted, that while Hermione Granger's knowledge in her lessons meant she was frequently awarded house points for her work, Professor Snape gave her none."

"Do you have a dislike of Mr Potter and his friends, Professor Snape? A deep resentment to the fact that he is the Boy-Who-Lived? Or are you going to explain it away as a petty family feud perhaps? Possibly the Potters and the Snapes have always hated each other. Could that be true?"

Even had Snape wished to admit to his dislike of Harry's father, now, more than ever, it seemed a pitiful defence. Fudge was showing how he had managed to become Minister in the first place.

Snape looked collected and calm still however, and replied. "May we also see your own records Undersecretary? I certainly remember you giving detention to Potter because he informed you that Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord in his first year. But what was the one that started it all? Ah of course! You gave a detention to Harry Potter, after he told you that the Dark Lord was risen, a fact which was true. What was the punishment that you handed out Ms Umbridge?"

He was trying to fight fire with fire, and his comments provoked ugly faces from the Minister and the Undersecretary, and apprehensive faces from some of the onlookers.

"The Minister's Undersecretary is not under trial here." Fudge bellowed over the excited faces. Umbridge's smile had vanished, and she was glaring at Snape.

Dumbledore stood for the first time since the trial had begun. "It is well documented in the Wizengamot charter, I believe, that contexts for figures may be asked for. It is also documented – it is again my belief – that the people who are trying to prove guilt may be cross examined by either the prisoner, or his legal advice. The first regulation, is fourteen point –"

"We are well aware of the charter, Dumbledore." Fudge said sharply.

"Well, Minister, Undersecretary, what punishment was used in that first detention between Dolores Umbridge and Harry Potter." Snape gave a tight lipped smile.

"He was given lines." Umbridge said immediately.

"I think, Madam Bones, that we shall understand far more about it if we ask Mr Potter himself this question."

"Indeed." Madam Bones agreed. "Harry Potter will approach the Wizengamot please." Ron almost made to get up with him, and Hermione watched him go nervously.

Harry stood in front of the judging panel of Dumbledore, Madam Bones, Fudge and Umbridge, and waited for the first question. It was by Madam Bones. "What were you given detention for, Mr Potter, in your first class with the then Professor Umbridge?"

"I said that Voldemort was back. That Cedric Diggory's death had not been an accident as the Ministry was telling people, and that Voldemort had been reborn – more terrible than ever. I told her that I had duelled with Voldemort myself, like I told the Quibbler. I got angry at her as she said that I was lying about these things that had happened. She gave me detentions for the entire week." Harry related, anger creeping in once more from the way he had been treated.

His scar gave a particularly noticeable jolt. _Concentrate on the __Occlumency_, he thought suddenly.

"What happened in the detentions?" Madam Bones asked from her chair.

"She made me do lines. I pulled out a quill and parchment, ready to start, but she told me to put my quill away, for I'd be using one of hers that didn't need ink. As I wrote on the parchment, the lines were written in red ink: I Shall Not Tell Lies. Each time I wrote the sentence, I could fill the quill ripping through the skin on the back of my hand until the sentence was burned there. I still have a scar from it now."

The level of noise increased by an octave. There was a furious fire in Dumbledore's eyes, and disgust in Madam Bones'. Instinctively, Harry realised that he had earned Snape an ally on the bench. Many of the Wizengamot looked up at Fudge and Umbridge, with looks of fear that Harry couldn't understand. For some reason, Hermione was looking scared senseless, and she reached over towards Ron to tell him something. Madam Bones removed her monocle, and wiped it on a handkerchief. She shook her head slowly for a few seconds, and stayed quiet.

"Using a blood-contract quill for a detention?" She finally asked in near disbelief. "You may sit down once more Mr Potter." She told Harry, leaning down.

Harry walked quickly back to Ron and Hermione. Madam Bones replaced her monocle.

"How many times, did the Undersecretary use this same punishment on Potter? How many times did she award Mr Potter house points in her class, despite the fact that he has recently achieved an Outstanding Recognition in his O.W.L. results, which are to come out in a few days? Similarly with Mr Weasley, and Miss Granger – how many house points did she award them?" Despite the fact that Snape was chained to a chair, he seemed to be the one in charge with the questions. "Shall we ask Miss Granger?"

"Very well, Professor Snape. Could Miss Hermione Granger please approach the stand?" Madam Bones requested.

Hermione looked at Ron and Harry nervously, before standing up, and tracing Harry's steps. She stood beside Snape, trying hard to let no sign of fear escape her before the court.

"Miss Granger," Snape began, taking the initiative after a sign from Madam Bones, "In Ms. Umbridge's classes, how many house points did she award you?"

"None." Hermione replied in a shaky voice.

"None? How about Mr Potter or Mr Weasley then?"

"She… she didn't give them any either. I don't remember her awarding any Gryffindors any house points." A small smile played around a couple of the faces of the onlookers, as Umbridge's own condemnation of Snape was being mirrored back towards her.

"Really?" Snape raised his eyebrows, "We know she punished Mr Potter for telling the truth, did she also take points away from you or Mr Weasley for equally bizarre reasons?"

Umbridge looked livid, but a glance from Fudge kept her quiet. Harry saw Hermione meet Dumbledore's eyes, visibly strengthening her. She drew herself up, as if determined to take the opportunity to shame Umbridge.

"She did, from both of us." Hermione said clearly.

"Would you care to give us an example?" Madam Bones prompted.

"In our classes, she made us read the set text. By the time the second class had come around, I had read the whole book. I put up my hand and asked her what I should do instead. She didn't believe me, and asked me a question from the book, which I answered. I disagreed with the books interpretation, and said so. She took points off me for what she called a 'meaningless interruption'. She never told me what I should be doing while everyone else read the book, all the way until the end of term."

As Hermione came to the end, the people that had been smiling before, were now openly amused. Fudge looked furious.

"Very well Miss Granger. Professor Snape, I believe you have made your point, there is no need to continue." Fudge growled.

Hermione walked back to her seat far more quickly than the initial journey.

"Indeed." Madam Bones agreed. "Unless the Undersecretary would care to reply to these charges, it would appear that there can be little difference between your own disciplinary scheme and the Undersecretary when it comes to equality between the treatment of the children. As a result, we should bear in mind that both the Undersecretary and the Professor appear to have similar feelings towards Harry Potter."

Madam Bones was seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was accusing the Minister of Magic and his Senior Undersecretary to be as likely to be the criminal as Professor Snape. Harry hid a grin. Perhaps people had finally got fed up of Fudge, and his hide his head in the sand approach to government

"Are you ready to continue Minister?" She continued.

"I think we could do with a five minute recess to absorb the information so far, Madam Bones." The Minister replied, trying to sound cool and confident.

"Round one: Snape." Ron muttered. "And you two."

"Harry!" Hermione whispered urgently as she sat down. "Harry! I think Fudge has tried to buy the verdict. You know what Remus said about the calls for his head getting stronger. Well think of what might happen if the things that Umbridge did when in school got out, or she was sent to Azkaban for them. No-one would want Fudge in charge, and he'd have no hope of getting even a job as a departmental head. If he can convict Professor Snape then he'll gain public support for putting a Death Eater spy away, and acting quickly upon the events that showed Voldemort to the public. This could make or break his career."

"And you think he's _bought_ a guilty verdict on Snape?" Harry replied shocked.

"Definitely." Hermione replied decisively. "When you were talking about that detention Umbridge made you do, you were telling everyone how incompetent she and Fudge are. Most people looked at them as if scared. As if they didn't want to vote against the Minister. I don't know what he'd have promised, power, money, keeping illegal things quiet; I guess he'd promise anything."

"You should have seen them when you were speaking, Hermione." Ron grinned. "They were almost laughing at Umbridge."

"That won't last Ron," Hermione replied brusquely, "If Fudge is paying them, then they won't want to say Snape's innocent."

"But why go after Snape, I don't get..."

"Oh come on Harry," Ron interrupted, "Who's the evillest git out of all the teachers in the school? Who's the only greasy haired oily ex Death Eater we know?"

"Fudge and Umbridge need to make it look as if she was trying to help you against Snape. Fudge needs to make all those decrees last year look like they were good things. If he makes the Inquisitor position look like it helped the school, and you in particular, then both of them are out of trouble." Hermione said earnestly. "They're setting Snape up to take the fall for them."

"But they don't honestly expect me to help them do they? Not even against Snape, after the things that toad and Fudge did last year." Harry said incredulously.

"I doubt it mate. They'll probably try to warp whatever you say." Ron interjected.

"This feels so wrong…" Harry mumbled, "You know, helping Snape." Ron and Hermione smiled slightly.

"It's probably going to hinge on that night at the Department of Ministries," Harry winced but Hermione continued without noticing, "They must be attempting to make it look like Umbridge was trying to protect us. We're just going to have to make sure they know what Umbridge did: that she almost put the Cruciatus curse on Harry."

A loud noise brought an abrupt end to their discussion, and Madam Bones stood up once more, face still showing signs of disapproval at what she had just heard.

"Are you ready to proceed; Minister?" She asked.

"Yes, Madam Bones, I am." Fudge replied. "I would ask Alexis Ferrell to give evidence. Weasley, could you fetch him please."

Percy Weasley, whom Harry had not noticed when he came in, rose from his seat, and hurried to the main doors; minutes later, he had returned with a man. Harry looked across at Ron, who was eyeing his brother through narrowed slits. From the way that Ron had watched every step that Percy had taken; Harry had half a mind to hold Ron down in his chair. On the other side of Ron, it looked like Hermione was having similar thoughts. Percy returned to his seat, as the man looked around the court, with something resembling fear in his eyes.

For the first time, there was shock on Snape's face. A few seconds later, he recollected himself and his face became snide and complacent once more. The man that Percy had fetched – a small, thin, ferret-faced man – shuffled in front of the Wizengamot, while keeping his distance from Snape, as if scared. Snape glared at him from his chair. Something about the shifty movement of Ferrell's eyes reminded Harry of Wormtail and he couldn't help but wonder if protection was being given to the man in return for his oncoming testimony.

"I always wondered why they put you in Slytherin, Ferrell, not clever enough to even beat Muggleborns or near Squibs in anything. I suppose you didn't work hard enough to be in Hufflepuff and you certainly weren't brave or noble enough for Gryffindor." Snape said in a low scornful tone, which none the less carried throughout the room.

"The accused will please be quiet!" Fudge said loudly, "Now then, Alexis Ferrell, are you acquainted with Professor Snape at all?"

"Yeah," The man replied in a hoarse grunt, "We were at 'Ogwarts t'gether. Same year 'n' 'ouse."

"Are you honestly going to try and convict me by things from my school days?" Snape interrupted impatiently.

"The accused will please remain silent during witness' evidence unless the adjudicators allow him to speak." Fudge said pompously. "If you can't control yourself, then you will be magically silenced until we ask you questions."

Snape looked as if he had just been slapped. He glared at Fudge, but said nothing.

"Good. Now, could you tell us about Professor Snape's friends in Hogwarts, Mr Ferrell?"

"'E always wen' around wi' kids tha' were Death Eaters. McNair, 'Dolphus Lestrange, Knott, the Kinnears. 'N' he always 'ung around the older Slyth'rins, Malfoy, 'is girlfriend Narcissa Black, Crabbe 'n' Goyle, or what's-'er-name… Cassandra Falk."

"Indeed?" Fudge sounded like a child about to open a new toy. "Did Professor Snape have a girlfriend by any chance?"

Snape looked furious, but managed to keep an even tone in his voice, as he addressed Madam Bones, "May I speak, please, Madam Bones?"

Her eyes, which had been narrowing continuously throughout the testimony – one of them around her monocle, relaxed slightly. "Certainly, Professor Snape." She replied, before Fudge could say a word.

"I fail to see that the company I kept, or the mistakes I made, in my childhood affect anything nowadays. Obviously I made friendships, and decisions I regret, given that I became a Death Eater, and then turned away from the Dark Lord as I grew older and wiser. I would ask the Wizengamot to remember that I turned away from these people for a reason." Snape had contained has emotions by now, and his voice was smooth, and level.

"You turned away from them? Is that so? If that is the case, then you have nothing to worry about, do you? Or do you have something to hide?" Fudge sneered.

"I simply want to remind the Wizengamot that the person who was in this group of people is far less than half the age of, and has completely different beliefs to, the one who is sitting in this chair – any testimony on this subject is pretty much worthless."

"Really? If there is nothing else, perhaps the witness can answer the question then. Mr Ferrell, did Professor Snape have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, 'e did. Narcissa's siste'. Bell'trix Black. She were a year 'bove us, and they were togethe' fer years."

"Bellatrix Black? The same Bellatrix that became Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Yeah. Tha's 'er."

Alexis Ferrell's confirmation drew a gasp out of the assembled witches and wizards. Harry clenched his fists, and his knuckles slowly turned white as his circulation was cut off. Again, he felt his scar prickle irritably. _Remember what Dumbledore told you, Harry!_

"Was there a particular reason that Snape could get himself into these groups, and relationships?" Fudge asked, and Harry was sure he knew the answer that Fudge was angling for – something that he had heard himself about Snape and his magical knowledge.

"Yeah." He grunted, "'E knew more Dark Arts then them all put together. 'E could do the cuttin' curse in first year 'n' 'e always said 'e could do the Unforgivables. 'E used to teach Bell'trix 'ow to do the Imperius curse on their dates. She always liked power, she did. If 'e showed 'er something new, they never got back to their beds tha' night. I'm betting she jumped 'im 'n'-"

"That will do Alexis, thank you." There was a mild look of disgust on his face. "Did the young Severus Snape show his prowess at teaching to any of the other students, by any chance?"

"Oh yeah. 'E used to teach Lucius Malfoy and 'is gang dark magic, and they were five years 'bove 'im, coming from respected Pureblood families tha've been traced fer centuries withou' a Halfblood or Mudblood in 'em. Tha's why they talked t' 'im"

A couple of the Wizengamot stood up, outraged by the use of the word 'Mudblood'. Fudge looked nervous, as if sensing a change in the dislike of the Wizengamot away from Snape, and towards his witness.

Madam Bones intervened. "If the witness continues to use such offensive language, then he will be ejected from the courtroom."

"I only have one more question for the witness." Fudge cut in. The look of surprise on Ferrell's face suggested that he had originally had several. "What was Severus Snape's attitude to Muggleborns, or wizards with Muggle blood?"

"Oh, 'e 'ated 'em. Thought they were scum, 'e did. 'E's the one tha' first called 'em… tha' word you don' wan' me to say, in the year. 'N' 'e always said it to 'em too."

"So he agreed with You-Know-Who's ideas of wizarding blood then?" Fudge prompted.

"Yeah, 'e did. 'E was all fer the, 'ow'd'e say it? 'Purification o' the wizardin' race'. 'E 'n' Bell'trix were always talkin' 'bout it."

"Thank you Alexis Ferrell." Fudge finished. "You may go." Ferrell left the courtroom with a scamper.

"Professor Snape?" Madam Bones prompted.

"I was eleven." Snape said, scornfully. "If you want to get a feeling for my character now, perhaps you should ask my fellow teachers at Hogwarts, or perhaps the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, who trusts me enough to allow me to teach students, both of Muggle and Wizard descent."

Dumbledore, who to Harry's surprise had been relatively silent so far, stood, "I have previously given evidence on this matter on numerous occasions. My opinion now is the same as it has always been – I trust Professor Snape implicitly. I certainly have no reason to believe that any of my staff believe otherwise."

"You would rather your current associates were mentioned then?" Fudge asked. "Could Auror Dreyfus McCarthy approach the stand please?"

A lean, tall man with sinewy muscles, hair as red as any of the Weasley family, he strode forward with the confidence of a man secure in his own ability.

"Auror McCarthy, you were in charge of the attempt to trace Professor Dumbledore's whereabouts earlier this year, were you not?" Fudge began.

"While Professor Dumbledore was wanted by the Ministry, yes sir." The auror replied with a respectful nod to Dumbledore. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. McCarthy had a broad Irish accent, but it was nothing like Seamus Finnegan's. There was a different, deeper kind of tone, and musical quality to it. "I'm sorry sir, but at the time there were warrants for your arrest."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Umbridge cut in. "Albus Dumbledore had led the Minister to believe he was raising an army against him."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, as he replied "It is quite alright Dreyfus, I assure you. Give my best wishes to Elaine, won't you?"

"I will, thank you sir."

"Could you please explain to us how you searched for him, Mr McCarthy?" Fudge said in a frustrated tone.

"In many ways, I assure you Minister, but the one that applies here I believe, is following known contacts of Professor Dumbledore. At least one Auror was assigned to each teacher, and other regular contact of the Headmaster. Professor Snape was followed by two around the clock."

"So you can give us a good idea of Professor Snape's movements then?" Fudge prompted.

"To some extent, yes."

"Only to some extent?" Fudge asked.

"Yes, he sometimes managed to leave Hogwarts without our Aurors realising it. Well, that's not strictly true – we could determine that he had left, but not where to. There were obviously some very powerful charms that would not allow us to follow. He also managed to give us the slip in London a few times, but otherwise we managed to trace him pretty well."

" London… that's where Sirius Black was meant to be hiding, wasn't it?" Fudge said, in a pensive tone.

"Yes sir, but the murderer wasn't the only person in London. We actually speculated that he may have been meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore in one or both occasions." The Auror replied fairly.

Ron grabbed onto Harry's arm, and prevented him from rising from his seat. He wanted to scream, to yell at Fudge that Sirius was not a murderer, that he was innocent, but although his mouth formed the words, no sound came out. Nobody was looking at the three of them though, no-one else saw a thing, they were too busy watching the witness and Snape, who had gone white with rage at Sirius' name. Nobody except Albus Dumbledore that is. Dumbledore was looking directly at Harry, and gave a small shake of the head, as if to say: 'Now is not the time.'

"So, where were you successful in following Professor Snape to?" Fudge continued.

"When Professor Snape left Hogwarts, he primarily visited three locations. The first, and most frequent of these areas, was Malfoy Manor. He often visited Lucius Malfoy, and would talk with him into the night. During these visits, it was common for Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle to also arrive, and occasionally others, such as McNair and a younger man called Jugson. Most of the people that visited when Professor Snape was there were captured by Headmaster Dumbledore when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his return." Again, he gave a respectful nod to Dumbledore.

"The second of these locations was Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley. He generally seemed to buy books, or potion ingredients on these expeditions, but occasionally entered Gringotts and made transactions there. We were unable to follow inside Gringotts of course, because of the Wizard-Goblin Treaty of 1849. Unsurprisingly, they refused to offer any assistance as to the particulars of Professor Snape's visits.

"Thirdly, he very occasionally visited a small village in Surrey by the name of Little Whinging. The reason for his being here is still unknown. He would often circle the area, as if looking for something, and occasionally would search one particular area very carefully, but he never performed any magic that we could tell. He would generally spend a few hours doing this, before apparating back to Hogsmeade, and then returning to Hogwarts."

Everyone had turned towards Harry now, who was now as stiff as a board. He stared at Snape, trying and failing to see what Snape's reaction was. Snape hadn't moved during the Auror's narration once. He caught a glimpse of Dumbledore's eyes, which sparkled, as if to say that this was okay, that it was under his orders. He relaxed gradually, settling back into his chair. Fudge looked mildly displeased that Harry had controlled himself, and finished the interview with the Irishman quickly.

"Thank you Auror McCarthy, that was most illuminating." Fudge concluded. "You may sit back down for the moment."

"Right you are sir. Madam Bones, Headmaster Dumbledore." He nodded to each in turn, and then returned to his seat without even acknowledging Umbridge.

"So, Professor Snape!" Fudge began dramatically. "Why exactly were you wandering around Little Whinging, and what were you looking for? For someone who thinks of Harry Potter as no more or less than a student, it is rather strange to see you so close to his home. A home where, the Ministry is well aware, there are no other magical beings for miles around. Were you investigating protective charms perhaps? Trying to find a weak point, and a way to breach the defences around Harry Potter while he is home for the holidays?"

"As a matter of fact I was, Minister. I was, as you say, examining the protective charms in place, and also trying to find a weak spot, that could be used to bring the protection down. The Headmaster was afraid that the defences could be breached, and asked me to have a look at them, and identify any areas that The Dark Lord might try to exploit. Just ask the Headmaster yourself." Snape gave a small thin lipped smile.

Professor Dumbledore rose with a smile, and simply said. "I did ask Severus to do this for me, yes; I could see no-one else better qualified for this type of work."

"That's all very well if Professor Snape is on our side as he professes to be, but with the company he has been keeping in that time? Lucius Malfoy – brother-in-law to Bellatrix Lestrange, ex-girlfriend of the accused – and a man currently in Azkaban pending trial for his part in the Department of Mysteries Incident. A man who, according to the account of Harry Potter, is a very senior Death Eater, privy to many of You-Know-Who's secrets and plans." Fudge was building up steam here.

"_That's_ all very well Minister," Snape sneered before Fudge could continue, "but I can assure you that if you can provide a way for me to spy in You-Know-Who's circle of followers without actually meeting with them, I shall be delighted to do so."

"Oh, of course," Fudge's voice was absolutely dripping with sarcasm. "How silly of me – of course you would automatically be spying upon these Death Eaters. It's a shame that you have been unable to provide us with any information that could have warned us about the attacks so far this summer, isn't it?"

"My sources happen to be locked up in Azkaban at the moment." Snape spat. "Unfortunately, I can know nothing of his plans, unless I have sources that can tell me what's happening. The Dark Lord himself does not trust me again yet, so I must find out information through more willing Death Eaters, wizards I was once a friend, even a teacher to, for example."

"Of course… it's so simple, so simple." Fudge gave a fake sigh. "So simple, that only the most naïve would believe it."

"Indeed Minister? How would you suggest I attempt to gather information then, that would allow the less naïve to believe me? I need hardly add that it gets harder every word we speak about it."

"Minister Fudge, Professor Snape, perhaps we could move on?" Madam Bones interrupted.

"Of course Amelia, my apologies." Fudge gave her a warm smile. "Now then, Professor Snape, last year, did you at any stage have one to one sessions with Harry Potter? Where you would teach him without anyone else being present?"

"I did." Snape replied coolly collecting himself once more. "Despite the way that the Ministry and on their instruction, the Daily Prophet, were trying to make him appear insane, Mr Potter professed a desire to become an Auror. His potion's marks weren't good enough to make the required grade, and I was pushed to give him remedial lessons by some of my colleagues."

"And how long would these sessions take?"

"It would obviously depend a great deal upon the potions we were studying, and the amount of progress achieved. Not being official lessons, they had no set time limit." Snape sneered.

"So the length of each lesson depended solely on how long you wanted them to be." Fudge summarised for the Wizengamot. "I see. Tell me Professor; are you aware of the twin magical subjects of Occlumency and Legilimency?"

"He knows." Harry thought with an unpleasant lurch. Ron had grabbed the table in front of him, Hermione had grabbed Ron's arm. "How does he know?" He mouthed at the two of them. They shrugged at him, their faces blank. Ron noticed Hermione's hand and turned towards her quizzically, she withdrew it with a start, and a tinge of a blush.

"Obviously," Snape was saying disdainfully, "how could I have been a spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters otherwise? The Dark Lord would have known everything if I was not a practiced Occlumens."

"So you would consider yourself an expert in these areas then, I assume."

"I would." Snape replied.

"Good. Could you perhaps explain to us what these subjects are?" Umbridge's face held a smile that had reached the very width of her face.

"Legilimency is the magical study of the penetration of the mind. A skilled Legilimens can peruse the memories of the subject, using them to discover information, or bring certain memories to the attention of the subject. The most skilled Legilimens can possess the subject. Occlumency is the study of the protection of the mind against magical penetration. A skilled Occlumens can defend themselves against Legilimency, memory charms, or even the Imperius curse and Veritaserum."

"Very useful then. I am sure you are aware that not many people are Occlumens, and yet it would help defend them against an Unforgivable Curse or such a powerful truth potion. Can you explain this?"

Snape curled his upper lip. "It is a very hard branch of magic to master, Minister, most minds are too weak to become accomplished Occlumens without years, or even decades of study, if at all."

Fudge had a smug grin on his face, as if everything was going according to plan. "So a mere student in other words, would find it impossible to learn Occlumency, or Legilimency, say."

"Not impossible. But very difficult. It requires a strength of mind to be able to suppress your emotions that few teenagers can muster." There was a sneer in Snape's voice, which Harry knew was meant solely for him, and his lack of success at the subject.

"In Legilimency, Professor Snape, would it be possible to place memories in a subject's mind, that weren't there to begin with?"

"Yes. However, without the subject being aware of the fact a memory was placed there, it is doubtful. Eye-contact is near vital for Legilimency, and the subject sees and feels any emotions or memories that the Legilimens views or implants."

"Really?" Fudge raised an eyebrow, and Harry had a nasty feeling in his stomach. "Can you not think of any way that this could be achieved without the recipient's knowledge?"

"Not off-hand, no." Snape's expression remained disdainful.

"Madam Bones, I would like to ask Robin Fleming, Head Professor of Defence of the Mind, in the Auror Training regime here at the Ministry, to come to the stand."

Snape's eyebrows raised, but he showed no other emotion. Madam Bones nodded, and the other man stood up, and approached the stand.

"Professor Fleming," Fudge began, "You are an expert on the mental defence of the mind, teaching prospective Aurors how to use techniques such as Occlumency, are you not?"

"Among other things, yes." Professor Fleming had a rather non-descript appearance, at just under six foot, a face that wouldn't stand out in a crowd, blond-brown hair, a slightly protruding stomach, and just a slight midlands accent.

"And would you agree with the description of Occlumency and Legilimency that Professor Severus Snape has just given us?"

"In general, yes. The Professor described it quite succinctly."

"In general? So there are parts of his description that you do not agree with?" Fudge sounded surprised.

"There are." Fleming confirmed. "It is quite possible for a skilled Legilimens to impart false memories to an individual without their knowledge. Although eye-contact makes Legilimency easier, it is not absolutely necessary if the two people are very close together, and the subject is in a relaxed, open state. For example, a Legilimens could cause a recurring dream that appears like a vision to a sleeping boy. All the Legilimens would have to do would be to place the memory in the part of the mind that controls the dreams and reinforce it now and then."

"Are there any other ways that a Legilimens could achieve this?" Fudge probed to a script.

"Indeed. There are potions, even in the O.W.L. level of the Potions course, which can dull the senses of the mind, and if altered slightly, this can be achieved from just the fumes. So a skilled potions maker could cause a stupor in the subject, which could then be exploited. A person undergoing severe pain could also have the erroneous vision placed without their knowledge. They would be unable to distinguish memories that flashed up in their mind because of the difficulty to concentrate in such circumstances."

"In your opinion, could an expert in Occlumency and Legilimency not be aware of this?" Fudge asked.

"It is one of the first things I teach to my students in the matter. Most people, if not everyone, with anything approaching an advanced knowledge of the subjects would be aware of this."

"I see." Fudge said with an expression of bemusement on his face. "Would you say, then, that Professor Snape is not an expert in these subjects as he claimed to be?"

"No, I think there can be no doubt about that. To be able to act as a spy, these subjects would be vital. If, indeed, Professor Snape did spy on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at some stage, then he would not be alive today without these abilities. If not, then it would have been discovered in his trial fifteen years ago without his having an extensive knowledge of these subjects."

"So you don't believe that Professor Snape was telling the whole truth earlier?"

Snape snorted. "If you are going to change the question, obviously there will be a different answer!"

"You have been warned against making outbursts. The court will willingly exercise its right to silence the accused if the accused attempts to speak out of turn just once more." Despite sounding angry, Fudge seemed hard pushed to prevent himself looking positively gleeful, Harry thought.

"Madam Bones," Snape snarled, "may I be allowed to speak?"

"Certainly, Professor Snape." Madam Bones replied, putting out a hand to signal Fudge to stop.

"I was under the impression," he said through gritted teeth "that we were talking about actual memories, not dreams or visions. I know of absolutely no way that a person could implant a false memory via Legilimency without that person being aware that they were being manipulated. The person is still aware that something has happened to him, even with no knowledge of the subjects whatsoever.

"Regardless, there are too many other memories that would have to be changed along with it, and finding them would be an altogether time consuming operation, quite apart from changing them sufficiently to confirm the faked one without causing further problems. Immediately you change one memory, you have to change another, and then another and another. Memory charms, of course, do this, but they are too clumsy for such an application.

"Dreams are a different matter entirely of course. Nothing is being changed in the subject's mind, or accessed in any way, so it is plausible that the subject may be unaware. I might add, that Professor Fleming also neglected to mention that it is conceivable that people with any sort of unusual magical connection between them could also be more vulnerable to Legilimency between each other. It is also possible to implant a vision or dream at the same time as that mind is being accessed for some other purpose by another person without an unskilled subject being aware of the second Legilimens."

"Is that so? You did not simply want to conceal these possibilities?" Fudge asked, sharing a knowing smile with the rest of the Wizengamot.

"Certainly not." Snape replied firmly, but the people surrounding him in the upper tier of the courtroom looked doubtful.

"You may sit down, Professor Fleming." Madam Bones told the man, who strode back to his seat. "Do you wish to ask for a five minute recess again Minister Fudge?" She asked the man on her left.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea." Fudge agreed. The Wizengamot broke into quiet discussions.

"Harry, mate, are you okay?" Ron asked quietly, Hermione looking across him.

"I… Yeah… I'm okay." Harry forced out in a strangled voice. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm fine Hermione." He hissed, "I just got a shock. That's all. Well a couple of shocks. That and my scar's been twinging all day."

"What do you think's coming next?" Ron asked, moving the conversation on, before Hermione could lecture Harry in the middle of the court.

"I dunno." Harry answered. "I bet it has something to do about Occlumency though, Fudge has set it up hasn't he? How does he know?"

"I'm not sure…" Hermione began, "I suppose Dumbledore must have told him that V- Voldemort – Oh come on Ron – lured you to the Ministry. Maybe he just guessed."

"Oh shut up Hermione, you were the same a year ago." Ron replied, nettled.

"Well I grew up, didn't I?" Hermione replied haughtily.

"Come off it Hermione, the whole wizarding world doesn't like it, are you saying my grandparents haven't grown up yet?"

"We're in the middle of the Wizengamot court, are you two really going to argue until they start again?" Harry cut in, in annoyance

"Yeah well, try telling that to Hermione!" Ron whispered.

Hermione looked furious, but Harry didn't let her reply, "But why is Fudge going to let us say Umbridge tried to use the Cruciatus curse. It's insane."

"It's political suicide." Hermione agreed.

"Maybe he doesn't know." Ron said, with a shrug.

"What?" They both asked as one.

"Maybe Umbridge didn't tell him. He doesn't know that she sent the Dementors after you a year ago Harry, maybe he doesn't know about the Cruciatus curse."

Harry stared at him, Hermione's forehead creased. "Why is Umbridge letting him do it then?"

"No idea." Ron replied. "Maybe it's just because she's an arrogant cow that thinks she can get away with anything."

"I can't believe she hasn't told Fudge. It's her neck too." Hermione said decisively.

"Maybe she's going to try and stop us mentioning it." Ron said defensively. "Have you got a better idea?"

"Not really." Hermione admitted with a shrug. "Snape's pretty confident, isn't he?"

"Just too cocky to believe he can be convicted."

"Arrogant slimeball." Harry nodded with Ron.

"Maybe," said Hermione, "but you've got to admire the way he's defended himself against Fudge. I was nervous just telling them about Umbridge."

"Told you, he's an arrogant b-"

There was a loud bang from Madam Bones' wand. "I believe we are ready to resume. If you would, Minister Fudge?"

* * *

_A/N And so ends part one of the trial. When I originally wrote it, I had intended it to be one chapter - until I found that it was ridiculously long compared to the others. Hope you enjoyed it._

_Side Note: I wrote this chapter before JKR said on her site that Occlumency can help against truth serums. So I'm rather chuffed that I came to that conclusion on my own. :)_


	7. Tribulations

**Chapter 7: Tribulations…**

"Thank you Amelia," Fudge gave a small bow, as if about to introduce some entertainment, "I would like to ask Auror Dreyfus McCarthy to return to give us more evidence."

"This is most irregular, Minister, witnesses are normally required to give all of their testimony at once." Madam Bones turned to the Minister.

"I am aware of that, and apologise, but it was necessary, to make the argument easy to follow."

"Very well," Madam Bones acknowledged with a frown, "Could Auror McCarthy please resume his place in front of the Wizengamot."

The Irishman took his feet, and strode back over in his easy stride. He smiled at the elders.

"Auror McCarthy, after the search for Professor Dumbledore was called off, you were placed in charge of an investigation of the events in the Department of Mysteries, the night that You-Know-Who made his return known, is that correct?" Fudge began, and the entire room seemed to draw in their breath, as if this was the moment they had been waiting for.

"It is." The Auror acknowledged.

"Could you give the Wizengamot a brief outline as to your findings to date?"

"I could, but I reckon the people who know what happened the best are sitting over there." He nodded to Harry, Ron and Hermione genially. "We were not permitted to interview them about the occurrences on the night of the twenty-eighth of May by their Guardians and Headmaster, and many details are not known for certain. I can tell you what we believe to have happened however."

"Yes, yes, please do." Fudge sounded irritated, and Harry could tell that either the conversation hadn't been rehearsed, or the Auror was refusing to simply say solely what Fudge wanted him to.

"On the afternoon of the twenty-eighth of May, the O.W.L. students at Hogwarts had a History of Magic exam, which started at two p.m. Professor Tofty reports that Mr Potter had to be led out of the exam early complaining of 'a nightmare'. At six-thirty p.m. the then Headmistress Umbridge became aware of intruders in her office. Her suspicions were heightened when Mr Ron Weasley reported to her that the school poltergeist was causing trouble when she knew he was the other side of the castle to the reported area. She immediately returned to her office, where she found three more friends of Mr Potter keeping watch. Entering her office she found Miss Hermione Granger keeping guard at the window, and Mr Harry Potter attempting to communicate via floo powder to persons unknown.

"Ms Umbridge reports that she attempted to question the intruders, and from the intelligence they offered, she ventured into the Forbidden Forest with Mr Potter and Miss Granger. Unfortunately she was met by a band of mutinous centaurs and Mr Potter and Miss Granger eluded her during the struggle. We believe that everyone that had been apprehended by the Headmistress then flew on Thestrals to the Ministry of Magic." There was more than one gasp from the Upper Circle, but the Auror continued. "The Thestrals in Hogwarts are completely trained, and the students obviously knew that.

"From the hurry that they were in to reach the Ministry of Magic, and the happenings in the History of Magic exam, we believe that Harry Potter had a vision of something or someone in the Department of Mysteries. Given that we believe Sirius Black to have perished that night, and the man's connection with the murders of Lily and James Potter, Harry's parents; it is possible that he was attempting to apprehend the escaped convict."

Once more, Harry found Ron's hand on his shoulder, and this time the court watched his fight to stand up.

"We realise that the subject is difficult for you, Harry," Fudge said in the fatherly voice he had used in Harry's third year, "but we must ask you to try to remain calm for the moment." Harry glared at him, and forced himself half out of his seat, before Ron pushed him down again.

"You won't clear his name here, with Fudge and Umbridge going after Snape." Hermione hissed, quiet enough for only Harry and Ron to hear.

Harry did not look at Hermione, but he stopped struggling.

"Very good Harry, very good." Harry heard Fudge say distantly.

He was staring straight ahead, past Snape, at a spot on the wall below the Minister, trying desperately to control the mixed emotions that were swelling up inside him. He was torn between fury and despair, and only the inability to make up his mind between the two was preventing him from speaking. And he wished that damned scar would stop hurting, making it even harder to think straight. _Clear your mind, Harry._

McCarthy was speaking again, but Harry was only barely listening. "Yes Minister, as you say, as far as we can make out, You-Know-Who sent his Death Eaters to force Harry Potter to take down a prophecy that referred to the two of them. Although the prophecy was removed and the charms protecting it negated as a result, Mr Potter refused to hand the prophecy over, and a fight ensued.

"Unfortunately, many prophecies were destroyed in the fight, including, we believe, the one that You-Know-Who was so interested in. As far as we know, it remained unheard, and so we have no way of knowing why he wanted to hear it. During the fight, Sirius Black was forced through the veil, and, we must believe, perished. Bellatrix Lestrange and You-Know-Who himself cornered Mr Potter, but fled from Albus Dumbledore when he came upon the three of them."

"So, not only did He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named nearly gain knowledge of an important prophecy, but Harry Potter, and five of his friends were placed in danger because of a vision?" Fudge asked.

Harry took a deep breath, and continued to only pay partial attention to the words being said.

"As far as we know." McCarthy agreed. "We could find no other reason that Harry Potter and his friends could have for being in the Ministry at the same time as Death Eaters. We all know that Harry Potter had good reason not to believe the Ministry would help him just a few months ago," Fudge glared at the Auror, but McCarthy looked unabashed, "I would theorise that he was trying to communicate with Professor Dumbledore about the vision via the floo powder, I can see no other conclusion that would fit the facts as well."

"But the vision is certain?" Fudge pressed.

"Almost certain," McCarthy corrected. "There must have been some message that alerted Mr Potter of Black and the other Death Eaters. The fact that he told Professor Tofty he had had a nightmare, would suggest that the vision was the form of the message. The fact he had a vision, naturally means Legilimency is very probably involved. He certainly could have had no defence against Legilimency, if that is what it was – it would take years for him to be able to block out any invading mind."

"Thank you, Auror McCarthy." Fudge said triumphantly. "I think that that will be all. Thank you for being so candid."

"Thank you Minister." He nodded at Dumbledore and Madam Bones again, before sitting down.

Fudge seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. "I would like to ask my Senior Undersecretary to give evidence. I realise this is again unusual Amelia," He continued, before she could say a word, "but I feel we need the ex-Headmistress of Hogwarts to give evidence concerning what happened that night."

Madam Bones merely nodded as a reply. Harry tuned back in again. He, Ron and Hermione shared meaningful glances. This was it. Fudge and Umbridge's biggest obstacle and their chance to shame the two of them was surely here. Umbridge stood up from her chair, and walked down the stairs to the ground. She and Snape eyed each other contemptuously, but neither said a word. Snape was taking Fudge's threat seriously.

"Dolores Umbridge," Fudge began, "You were the Headmistress of Hogwarts on the day of May the twenty-eighth, were you not?"

"I was, Minister." She replied, in her girlish voice.

"We have heard already that you apprehended six students that night, all of whom were related to an effort to use the Floo Network from your office, is this correct?"

"It is Minister. I had heard about Mr Potter's nightmare in his exam, and was concerned about both his and his fellow students' safety, so I was headed towards the Hospital Wing, where I was told he would be. On my way there, I was accosted first by Argus Filch, who told me that Peeves the Poltergeist was in the astronomy tower, and then Ron Weasley, who told me the Poltergeist was in the Transfiguration Room. This struck me immediately as suspicious, and when some alarm charms told me my office had been broken into, I was immediately worried for the children's wellbeing. I found the other children as I returned hastily."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in disbelief, but Fudge had an expression of deep understanding on his face, as he continued, "I see. What did you do when you found Harry Potter attempting to use your fireplace?"

"I immediately pulled him out. I could tell something important had happened, or was about to, and I was worried for all their safety."

"Of course, of course." Fudge murmured.

Harry wondered if a single person was fooled. Although, if Hermione was right and the court had been bought, then they probably were all too willing to be fooled.

"I questioned the children, but they refused to tell me what was happening. I cajoled, bargained, and practically begged them to let me know what the problem was, but to no avail. I could see on their faces that something was bothering them however, so out of desperation, I sent for Professor Snape, and asked him if he knew of any reason they may have been trying to use the fireplace. Snape refused point blank to help. He looked unsurprised to see the children there, and stared at Mr Potter, keeping eye-contact.

"He sneered, and suggested I poisoned Potter, until he told me what the matter was. I realise now that he must have scared Mr Potter for he burst out in desperation a message that I was unable to understand at the time.

"'He's in the place that it is hidden!'

"Of course, I realise now, that he must have been referring to the Department of Mysteries. Snape smiled, and then left the room looking extremely satisfied."

"What utter rubbish!" Snape burst out.

Quick as a flash, Fudge had his wand out. "Silencio!" He muttered. "I'm sorry Professor Snape, but I did warn you on numerous occasions. We simply can not function as a court if our witnesses are being interrupted, or intimidated. My apologies Dolores, please, continue."

Snape looked beside himself, he strained at his chains for the first time, since he had entered the room. He looked like he would like nothing better than to be allowed to perform curse, after curse, on the Minister. Harry was open mouthed, both at the nonsense Umbridge was spouting, and the fact that Fudge had silenced Snape.

"Thank you Minister." Umbridge simpered. "Once Snape had left, Mr Potter's panic left him, I suppose that he believed that he could get to the Ministry to go after Black himself, or else was just more comfortable without the man in the room. I was extremely worried at this stage, and pled again, for them to tell me what was happening. I am ashamed to admit, that my concern overrode my senses, and I even threatened them. Miss Granger, the poor dear, actually believed me, and told me that the reason why they were using the fire was in the Forbidden Forest. I of course, followed them to the forest, and you know what happened from then onwards. If I had only known what Mr Potter had seen, I could have stopped them, and explained that it was most likely a trap. I do not blame the boy for wanting revenge, but if he had only confided in me, all this could have been averted." She sighed.

"Thank you Dolores, I think that is all we need to know." Fudge ended, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione just stared at the scene in front of them. Harry's mind had stopped working. It seemed to have got stuck on wondering how on earth Fudge and Umbridge thought they could get away with this.

"Now," said Fudge, "We have presented our evidence to you, and Professor Snape did not request any witnesses, so I would ask the Wizengamot to decide whether or not the accused, Professor Severus Snape, is guilty."

Madam Bones held up her hand. "I would like to verify the events if I may, Minister. That is why I asked Mr Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr Weasley to attend. Their testimony as to the events that night could condemn or vindicate a man." She turned to the three friends. "I quite understand that your guardians do not wish you to talk to the Ministry about the events on the twenty-eighth of May, and we will ask you to divulge as little as possible on the subject. However, in order for us to properly try this man, we require you by law to give an account of the events."

"Of course Amelia," Fudge said immediately, with an apologetic smile, "Mr Weasley, would you mind?"

Ron glanced around nervously, shocked at being singled out. Harry had been half out of his seat, expecting to be asked, and Hermione had had a look of determination on her face. Ron, however, seemed to have forgotten that he might be called upon to give evidence. He rose tentatively, as if hoping someone else would go for him. And it was only after Fudge repeated his request that he moved forward, before the whole court. He stepped forward before the court, his ears going red, looking quite shell shocked.

"No need to worry son." Madam Bones boomed. "We just need to ask you a question or two."

Immediately Ron had stood beside Snape, and looked up, Fudge took the initiative. "Mr Weasley, you have been a friend of Mr Potter's throughout school, have you not?"

"Er, yes, I have." Ron replied nervously.

"Excellent. You sleep in the same dormitory in Gryffindor, do you not?"

"Um, well, yeah, we do."

"Have you noticed anything different about Mr Potter's sleeping patterns in the last year? Has he been sleeping badly, or having nightmares more than usual?" Fudge dropped the bombshell before Ron had time to gain any of his confidence.

There was a nervous silence, where nothing was said. Hermione and Harry watched Ron without breathing. "N- No, not really." But there had been too long a hesitation for anyone to believe him, and Harry knew it. There was a murmur in the court, and Ron looked desperately at Harry and Hermione and his already red ears started to reach a deeper shade.

"Mr Weasley –" Dumbledore began, in a calm voice, but Fudge interrupted him.

"Professor Dumbledore, I am aware you are only trying to help, but we must obey Wizengamot protocol, only I or Madam Bones should ask the questions."

Dumbledore's eyes became a steely blue, but for now he seemed content not to intervene. Harry was betting he would if Snape was convicted.

"As you wish Minister." He said in a tranquil tone.

"Are you sure, Mr Weasley?" Fudge pressed.

"I- yes, I'm certain."

Fudge didn't press, but moved on to another question. "These one to one remedial potions lessons your friend had with Professor Snape – did Mr Potter seem different after them?"

"Not really." Ron replied, trying to sound more confident.

"What do you mean?" asked Fudge.

"Well, he wasn't really any different to how he was after any of the potions classes. I mean, they have never got on from the day they met." Ron seemed to realise that that wasn't the best thing to have said, and, trying to recover, continued, "He wasn't as bad as after his detentions with Professor Umbridge though."

Of course – comparing the sessions to getting your hand ripped open, and the blood used as ink, probably wasn't the best move either.

"I see…" Fudge mused. "On the twenty-eighth of May, to your knowledge, did Harry Potter have some kind of vision?"

By this time Harry, was looking at Dumbledore imploringly for help for Ron, and saw Dumbledore give the smallest of nods. Ron however, was looking at Harry and Hermione for assistance, rather than Dumbledore. By the time Harry had thought to pass Dumbledore's message on, there had been another lengthy pause, which told the watching witches and wizards all they wanted to know. That Fudge's version was right.

Ron floundered, unable to form a coherent sentence, and Fudge seized upon his nervousness. "Now, now, Mr Weasley, there is no need to be anxious, you and your friends are not on trial here, nor will you be. Surely there was a reason for you coming to this building that night?"

"I, well, yes there was, but-"

"And that reason was based upon something Mr Potter had told you, is that correct?"

"I… yes, it was but-" Ron looked horror-struck at his unconscious admission, and blurted out, "It's not Harry's fault!"

"No-one is blaming you or your friends for anything, Mr Weasley." Madam Bones cut in. "Can we assume that Mr Potter did have a vision then?"

"Yes, I think he did." Ron admitted at last. "He saw Sirius being t- tortured by Y-You-Know-Who."

"Sirius?" Madam Bones asked in a tone of surprise. "Sirius Black, I take it?"

"Yes, Harry's Godfather." And at last, Harry was glad of Ron's response. They were finally moving towards clearing Sirius' name.

"Of course," Fudge said in a low but clear voice, "you wanted to take advantage of his being in a weaker state." He continued questioning before anything else could be said or done. "So the six of you went looking for Black did you?"

"Yes, we did. That's why we went to Umbridge's room, we needed the Floo network, and all of the other fires were being watched. I mean, the Ministry would have taken every opportunity to try and get Harry in trouble, wouldn't they? You just have to look at what Umbridge did that night." Ron had finally found his feet, and was beginning to make a stand. "But Sirius wasn't -"

Fudge interrupted him, completely changing the thread of the questions, obviously trying to avoid references to what had happened in Umbridge's office or Sirius Black. Onto the subject that presently unnerved Harry the most: the Prophecy. "Mr Weasley, the Ministry believes that the particular prophecy that involves both Harry Potter and the Dark Lord was one of the many prophecies that were broken, is that correct?

"Yeah, it was." Ron nodded.

"Did anyone hear what it said, before it was broken?" Fudge continued.

"Hem, hem." Umbridge interrupted. "Cornelius, given what it is that Professor Snape is on trial for, perhaps it would be best if he was escorted out of the room, so that he is unable to gain any information for his master."

"Alleged master." Dumbledore corrected quietly.

"Quite so, quite so." Fudge agreed, "Amelia, do you see any problems with this?"

"I don't believe so Minister, if it were a matter of evidence against the accused, our laws would forbid it, but it is more a matter of understanding the gravity of the situation, and any consequences of the event that have to be dealt with."

"Excellent. Dawlish, Ferguson, could you escort the accused back to a holding cell please."

The Aurors that had accompanied Snape into the room, now sprung up, to take positions either side of him. The chains undid themselves, allowing Snape to stand, which he did, glaring at his accusers, and still silenced by the charm. He allowed himself to be steered out of the room, and only when the doors slammed shut again, did Fudge re-ask the question.

"Mr Weasley, to your knowledge did anybody hear or see anything of the prophecy when it was destroyed?"

"I don't know. I didn't see it break." Ron replied stoutly.

"From what you have been told by friends, did anyone else see it break?" Fudge pressed.

Ron didn't hesitate this time, but his ears, which had been returning to a normal shade, became a little redder. "I really don't know. None of us have really wanted to talk about it much." This wasn't exactly true of course – Hermione in particular had wanted Harry to talk about the events that night.

Madam Bones seemed to be able to tell Ron wasn't being entirely truthful, and said, in a far gentler voice than usual, "We really must know Mr Weasley, it is very possible that these people could be in grave danger if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was to find out that they had witnessed some part of the prophecy."

"Then it would be best if I didn't tell you, even if I knew," Ron said smartly, and Harry gave an inward cheer for him, "after all, if no-one knew about them, You-Know-Who wouldn't be able to find out either, would he?"

"It is far-" Umbridge began, but was interrupted by a polite cough from Dumbledore, who had a look of amusement on his face.

Fudge was forced to make the same statement he had made to Dumbledore, "Thank you Dolores, but it is best if Amelia or I to ask the questions I believe. Mr Weasley, it is imperative that we can make arrangements to protect the witnesses from You-Know-Who, as if he is able to find out their names on his own, they will be defenceless without our help. Also, this prophecy may be key to thwarting him."

"Minister," Dumbledore said calmly, "is this hearing supposed to be about ascertaining the innocence or guilt of a man, or fighting Voldemort?" There was the usual flinch at the name.

"The prophecy is vital to the understanding of the events, Dumbledore, I merely added that it was something that could be used to fight You-Know-Who too." Fudge, now, was turning slightly red.

"I'm afraid I must agree with the Minister, Albus," Madam Bones replied, "if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's goal was this prophecy, then it is the motive for the crime that Professor Snape has been accused of. It is of utmost relevance to the trial, and the Wizengamot."

Professor Dumbledore bowed slightly to Madam Bones, and said no more. Harry if anything became even tenser than when the subject had first been introduced. Ron, of course, knew that both Harry and Neville had been right next to the Prophecy when it smashed. He also knew that neither of them had heard it then, and had no clue that Harry had heard it later. But Fudge wouldn't believe it from Ron. He'd want to ask Harry, and Neville, and who knows what magical means there might be of recovering the prophecy from their memories. He started when he felt a hand grasp his own. Hermione had slid into the seat next to him, and was doing her best to show support – just as Ron was trying to protect him in the centre of the room. Harry felt a surge of gratitude to his friends.

"Mr Weasley, to your knowledge did Mr Potter give the prophecy to anybody else during the fight in the Department of Mysteries?" Fudge asked.

"I don't know." Ron replied, trying to delay the inevitable.

"So in other words, as far as you know he didn't." Fudge supplied.

"No I didn't." Harry said loudly, rising from his seat and withdrawing his hand from Hermione's. "Ron wouldn't know, he had been hurt during the fight, so why don't you ask me the questions instead?"

There was a deathly silence in the courtroom. Everyone had turned to look at Harry. Ron looked torn between relief, worry, and surprise. Harry wasn't sure about Hermione, but he was willing to bet that if he looked to his side, he would see a face of set disapproval. Fudge had an expression of greed on his face, Umbridge an expression of anticipation, and Madam Bones an expression that bordered on amazement. Dumbledore, however, looked supremely unperturbed by Harry's interruption, if anything he looked like he had been expecting it.

"Very well, then, Mr Potter," Fudge surprisingly was managing to keep an even tone, "could you retake your position before the court please."

Harry stood up, deliberately not looking at Hermione, but sensing her glare nonetheless. He made his way towards Ron, who for his part stood there, waiting for Harry to join him. Not out of uncertainty as to what he was meant to do, but out of a determination to stand by Harry.

Madam Bones spoke before Harry had quite reached Ron's side, and before Fudge had begun to say anything himself. "Before we go any further, I should like to return to the matter of what took place in Headmistress Umbridge's office that night. Specifically, as regards Professor Snape, the accused. Was Professor Snape indeed summoned to her office?" Fudge turned scarlet with anger, but said nothing.

Ron answered quickly, before Harry could. "Yes, he was. Professor Umbridge was livid that Harry had been using the Floo and demanded that we told her why. She and her Inquisitorial Squad –"

"Her what?" Bones asked.

"The Inquisitorial Squad was a group of Slytherins that she gave power to do what they liked in the school. They were the kind of people that would come up to us, and take house points away for someone not being of Pureblood. They were holding us as prisoners, Neville was almost suffocating. She yelled at us some more, and then summoned Professor Snape. He ordered Neville to be released from the grip that was around his neck. Umbridge asked him for some Veritaserum, but he told her she had taken his last stock to quiz Harry about Dumbledore's location and that she should have plenty left of it if she'd used it properly." Ron sounded like he was trying to say everything he could before Fudge interrupted him again.

"Are you telling me," Madam Bones began, enraged, "that the restrictions for the use of Veritaserum have been completely disregarded by the Minister's Senior Undersecretary, and likewise the man that supervised her running of the school, our own Minister? Please continue Mr Weasley, what else shall we find out?"

Fudge's shade of red was slowly becoming paler, not from any less anger (indeed, he seemed angrier if anything), but from fear it seemed. He turned to glare at Dolores Umbridge.

"Harry tried to tell the Professor that Sirius was being tortured by You-Know-Who, not scared he might kill him. Harry was staring at him non-stop, I think he was hoping Snape could see the vision he had seen via Legilimency. Snape left, after being told that he was being put on probation for his lack of cooperation. She threatened Harry with the Cruciatus curse if he didn't tell her what she wanted to know. She said that the Minister wouldn't care how she got the information. As if to prove this, she told us that it had been her that had sent the Dementors after Harry a year ago." Almost everyone gasped. "She finally decided to use the Cruciatus curse to try and get information and was halfway through the incantation, when Hermione pretended to break down and tell her 'everything'. She already started to say it. None of us could do anything else."

"The Cruciatus curse? Commanding Dementors to attack an underage wizard? Ms Umbridge, what have you to say?"

"I told you I lost my temper and threatened them; I had no intent to follow through with it. The lie I said about the Dementors was part of the threat." Umbridge's voice was cold, and ever-so-slightly strained.

Fudge's face was one of utter surprise, whether real or contrived, and he quickly inserted, "I have no idea what has happened, Amelia, I should like to get to the bottom of this myself."

Madam Bones stared at Umbridge, a look of unbridled disgust on her face. With a huge effort she turned back to the two boys on the floor. She did not continue the subject, but picked up on something else Ron had said.

"You knew Snape could do Legilimency, Mr Potter?"

As his name was the one that was asked, Harry opened his mouth for the first time since he had come to stand beside Ron. "Well, we kind of worked it out. But that's not really the point, is it?"

Harry chanced a look at Hermione. She didn't look quite as furious as he expected but just as determined. He imagined she must be trying to conceal her feelings.

"Well, Mr Potter, the fact that you know that Professor Snape is able to do Legilimency certainly lessens the chance that he would have been able to impart a vision to you without your knowledge." Madam Bones switched tack back again. "So Mr Weasley, Miss Granger managed to fool the Headmistress did she?"

Ron's affirmative, was joined by another voice, Hermione's own. "Yes, I did, Madam Bones." She walked to her two friends in the middle of the court uninvited, and the three of them stared up at the Wizengamot. "I told her that we had been working on a weapon for Professor Dumbledore, and wanted to try to tell him it was completed. I told her it was in the Forbidden Forest, and she took Harry and me there, without wands.

"She told us to go in front, and so we did, after Harry had asked for a wand if we had to go first, and were told that the Ministry valued her life, a lot, lot more than they valued ours. We met some centaurs that she provoked into attacking us, and we managed to get away in the fight."

Madam Bones' expression of disgust was copied by some of the others in the upper seating. "We seem to have a completely contrary report from these students to the one we were given by Ms Umbridge. I believe there is enough in what the students have said for an enquiry to be carried out about the Minister and his Undersecretary's actions this past year. But I think what we have learnt as regards this trial is that Harry Potter knew and trusted Professor Snape well enough to try and get a coded message through to him, without the person he feared knowing.

"I shall let the Minister resume his previous questions now, unless the three of you would like to say anything more?" She asked the trio, who shook their heads.

Fudge still looked livid, but his face was now white with fury, and, Harry suspected, the probable loss of his life as Minister.

"I can assure you, Madam Bones, that there will be a full inquiry into the matter. I had no idea–"

"I am sure there will be an inquiry Cornelius, and I should like to head it." Madam Bones said frostily, "If we could return to the matter at hand however?"

Fudge nodded decisively. "Very well. Let us see what we can find out."

Harry knew that Fudge had to want revenge, but he felt he could cope with anything that was thrown at him. He wasn't sure whether it was because he had Ron and Hermione beside him, or if it was the fact that he was getting revenge against Umbridge, but he felt as determined as the night when Sirius – when they were in the Department of Mysteries. He had had five friends at his back then, all ready to stand alongside him, and face the Death Eaters. Even though there was the fact that he had been tricked into placing them all in danger, they had all stood beside him, trusting him to make the correct decision, to say the right thing. He could almost picture the scene, Malfoy, and Lestrange and the rest of the cowards that hid behind masks. Bellatrix took her hood off, showing her face to him–

A surge of anger that Harry had rarely felt before briefly travelled through him. He would kill her. Whatever happened at the end, Bellatrix would die at his hand. Suddenly the idea of murdering someone didn't seem as unappealing. But… Lestrange was a murderer. Voldemort was a murderer. Pettigrew was a murderer. If he became a murderer then would he be any different than them? What if he enjoyed the feeling it gave him? How could he ever face his friends again? The rage left him to be replaced by helplessness. He swayed slightly, and shook the thoughts out of his head. Fudge had been saying something.

"Answer the question! Could you explain how the prophecy got broken please, Mr Potter." Fudge said in an aggressive, irritable tone.

"I – Sorry – I got hit by a jinx, and couldn't keep hold of it; it flew into the air, and then smashed upon the ground. Because of all the noise and action around, I was the only one who even saw it, but I couldn't hear a word the prophecy said. No-one could, even if they had seen it."

"So you didn't hear it then?"

"No. I didn't."

"So you have no idea what it may have said, then?"

"I… What do you mean? It smashed in the middle of a fight – I said I didn't hear it." Harry responded, being careful not to lie, but trying to choose his words in such a way that they could be misinterpreted. There was no such luck however.

"Do you have any idea of what the prophecy may be, Mr Potter? Were you able to find out from other sources?" Here Fudge glanced at Dumbledore, "What about the person the prophecy was made to?" His voice sounded venomous, as if he wanted to cause as much trouble as he could to those that had been instrumental to the possible loss of his job, as he saw it.

"I…" Harry felt sluggish somehow, and he could practically see Dumbledore's office.

The scene while he was waiting for Dumbledore in the morning of the twenty-ninth. The scene where he had discovered what the words of the Prophecy were. It was as if it were a film for him to watch, just progressing as Harry remembered. Dumbledore appeared, spoke to the portraits, and soon Harry would be told the Prophecy. The damn Prophecy. Beside him, Hermione seemed anything but sluggish, and he vaguely heard her asking what right the Ministry had to know anything about a prophecy relating to two people, if they wish it to be kept silent.

But Harry wasn't listening to the words Hermione had to say, or the words that were being returned. He didn't even feel Ron's arm on his back, to help him keep his balance. All he could see was the study, and all he knew was that soon the Prophecy would be revealed to him. 'It is time for me to tell you' he could hear Dumbledore say, and wanted to yell that he didn't want to hear it. What timing Dumbledore had had! Here you go Harry: you just have led your fellow students into a trap; you've lost Sirius, the closest thing to a parent you have known; you're in the middle of destroying my office, you are so miserable; and now I'll go and land this Prophecy on top of you. Harry's scar flared. Not enough for him to yell out, but enough for him to know it was there. He gasped, and heard someone else do the same. There was a muffled sound all around him, almost like people talking at once a long distance away.

Suddenly he felt that hand on his back, forcefully keeping him standing. Somehow Ron was now in his memory of Dumbledore's office. Ron, knew how much Sirius had meant to him, Ron knew how his parents had died, and the traitor that did it got away free. Ron knew that Sirius had been innocent. Ron… was saying something behind him. _That was odd_… Harry thought vaguely, _Ron wasn't even here in Dumbledore's office, how could he say something?_

"C'mon Harry, fight him. If I had that dreamless sleep potion I'd give it to you, but you promised you'd fight him as hard as you could if it happened. Remember something else! Show him something he doesn't want to see."

_Something he doesn't want to see? Something _who_ doesn't want to see?_ How could Harry change the memory he was living anyway, and what would he change it to? Oh God, he missed Sirius. Sirius always gave him the answers he needed to hear – even if he didn't know it at the time. Sometimes they were right, sometimes they were wrong, but he had needed to hear the words he said at those times. But Sirius was now…

The image changed - a memory of Sirius, a picture of him frozen in time, flying towards a veil. Harry let forth a howl of misery. A second later, it was joined by a howl of pain, as his scar burst into oblivion. A howl which was echoed from elsewhere in the courtroom.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione whispered frantically. "Harry, wake up!"

Harry looked around, feeling a bump on the back of his head. Hermione and Ron seemed to have dragged him away from the centre of the room. To his surprise, he wasn't being stared at by the entire Wizengamot, but only a small group. The attention of the bulk of the court was directed at Professor Robin Fleming who was lying in a heap without moving. Auror McCarthy's wand was pointing directly at him, and his wasn't the only one, Professor Dumbledore had a furious fire in his eyes, and his aim did not waver.

He sat up, and accepted Ron's hand, which helped him to his feet. His legs seemed to want to collapse, and his stomach gave an alarming lurch, but he was determined not to show it. An old woman, who was looking at him with a worried look on her face, carefully stepped forward.

"Are you okay dear?" She asked in concern.

"Yeah." Harry replied, but he had to fight against vomit that was trying to fight its way out. "I think I need some air." He said weakly.

"I'll take you lad," A stout man with a scraggly beard said, stepping forward too, "you'll feel better outside the courtroom."

"We'll come too." Hermione said stepping forward.

"No." Harry said, and then muttered so that only she could hear, "Tell me what happens in here when I come back."

Harry's legs wobbled ever so slightly, and the man came to his side, and took his arm.

"Come on, here we go. Easy now."

As the doors of the courtroom opened to allow them to exit, Fudge's voice echoed across the courtroom. "Where are you going with Mr Potter, Carruthers?"

The man by Harry's side turned around to answer. "The lad needs air Minister, I was helping him outside."

Harry continued out of the door, where Mrs Weasley and Ginny were waiting. They jumped up off their seats, as the door closed behind him, so Harry could not hear what was being said in the courtroom between Fudge, and the man who had helped him to the door.

"Harry! What's happened dear?" Mrs Weasleys asked, as she made to give him a bone breaking hug.

Harry backed off slightly. "I'm just not feeling great. I need to go to the toilet."

Mrs Weasley grabbed hold of Harry, but gave him a hug that was so delicate, it seemed as if she thought he would be knocked down by a small breeze.

Harry extricated himself from her clutches. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'll go with you." Ginny offered.

Despite himself, Harry's face cracked into a grin, and Ginny suddenly realised what she had said.

"I meant walk you up to the bathrooms you great twit!" She glared.

"I'm not _that_ ill." Harry said irritably, "I'll be back in a few seconds."

Harry had just made his way up to a corner, when he heard a man shout from behind him.

"Mr Potter! Stay where you are, and we'll escort you."

Harry didn't look back, or show any signs of having heard the man. Once he was out of view of the doorway, he ran. He heard Mrs Weasley yelling at whoever was behind him, and somebody shouting back.

"I think he can find his way to the toilet on his own!" Mrs Weasley was yelling. "You've probably scared him out of his wits! You DO know that the Ministry was trying to commit him to St Mungo's for all of last year, don't you?"

Harry couldn't hear all of the reply, but what he did hear confirmed his fears. "You don't understand Ma'am! We have to make sure he's safe… could be dangerous! Professor Fleming… You Know Who! … kill … find him!"

Of course – Harry thought. He had just had Voldemort inside his head, and crashed to the ground in agony. The Ministry probably thought Voldemort had possessed him, and was running around the Ministry, ready to kill anyone he came across. Harry ran up the stairs that led to the Department of Mysteries floor, and the elevator. He wasn't sure where he could go, but he wanted to avoid being captured and thrown into Azkaban, or some warded room in St Mungo's for as long as possible. Irrational thoughts flooded his head all at once, mixing together, and making even less sense.

The door at the top of the stairs burst open in front of Harry before he reached it. He ran through it and looked to his right, where the lift had just come to a stop, and people were about to step out. A couple of them had raised wands, and were pointing them right at Harry. He looked around frantically. One of the witches who were aiming at Harry yelled. Harry leapt to the side, afraid of a curse, and before he had even reached for his wand, the lights dimmed, the people who were jumping out towards him were flung back inside, and the elevator door slammed shut.

The only way left to Harry was inside the Department of Mysteries itself, so, barely knowing what he was doing, he ran down the corridor, until he reached the black door at the end. Again, without need for wand or hand, the door burst open, and slammed behind him as he entered. The lights dimmed, and the room revolved around, as it had when Harry and the others had entered it weeks ago.

Harry paused. Where could he go? He was trapped, in a place that was full of dangerous unknown things, which even the most knowledgeable wizards knew little about. There was a banging sound behind one of the doors – Harry assumed the one he had come through – and Harry reached out to the door knob of the one immediately opposite him. It was locked. The door seemed to bend towards him, as if it were a thin sheet of plywood, and someone, or something behind it was trying to get through to Harry, but it stayed fastened.

Harry backed away, and tried another door. A large room which seemed to be made up solely of working desks opened up before him. He had the barest of moments to notice bell jars, tanks, and artefacts of various shapes and sizes scattered around the room, before a man cried out.

"Hey! What are you doing here! The charms should have kept anyone without clearance out!"

Harry slammed the door closed, and he heard a resounding click, as if the door had locked. The room revolved, and he chose another door at random. The room that was revealed caused Harry to draw back. It was a large rectangular room, with many doors leading into it. Rows upon rows of benches descended to a pit, where, upon a stone platform, was an archway, with a tattered black veil covering the entrance. There was no-one inside. Harry swallowed and looked around wildly. It sounded as if there were people trying to bang their way through every other door that opened into the room he was currently standing in. Harry was trapped. There was nowhere else to run. He stepped through the doorway, door closing behind him.

Like a dream, or a nightmare, Harry descended to the pit, jumping onto each bench, one by one, slowly approaching the veil. This was where Sirius had died. Lupin had stopped Harry going through the archway, to try to pull him back, back to the world of the living, where Harry needed him. There was whispering coming from behind the curtain, just like Harry remembered, and as he reached the ground, and drew near to the raised dais itself, the curtain seemed to be blown backwards, as if an invisible figure had been thrown through it.

"Harry! Harry! What are you doing?" Ginny's panic stricken voice came from the top of the room.

Harry didn't answer, but rather raised his hand, to touch the crumbling structure. It was cool to the touch, clammy, more like a very ill person's skin, than powdery stone. Harry didn't withdraw his hand. He was struck by a sudden urge to enter the archway, and see what was on the other side. It had to be better than this. Harry jerked back. He didn't know where that thought had come from, but it scared him. Looking around, he saw Ginny making her way down the benches, or steps, or whatever they were, towards him. As their eyes met, she stopped.

"Please Harry, come away from there." There were tears in her eyes now, and Harry looked away.

Back towards the stone arch.

There was the sound of a gasp from Ginny, as she apparently found it impossible to keep descending. An invisible barrier had formed stopping her from continuing down to Harry. A door opened above, and Harry looked up sharply. A man was about to enter the room through one of the side doors. It was the auror called Dawlish. Harry glared at him, and he stopped moving before he could enter, the hand holding his wand struggling to lift it, and point it at Harry. The door slammed in his face, sealing itself shut with a squelching noise, once more blocking the way through to Harry.

Harry faltered, and swayed on the spot. He felt drained and tired. He reached out once more to the veil, touching the material itself this time. It was smooth, like silk, and deathly cold. Twisting it in his fingers, he was gripped with a sudden surge of anger, and tugged the frail material. Nothing happened. The cloth barely rippled.

"Harry please!" And Ginny was fighting against the tears now. "Please step away from it. We need you. Everyone does. Please."

Harry's voice was hoarse, but didn't shake, as he replied slowly. "Don't need me. Need The Boy-Who-Lived."

Emotions were welling up inside of him, and he fought against every unhappy feeling, everything he wished had never happened, which wanted to come to the surface. He rested his head on the stonework around the veil.

"That's not true Harry." Ginny said urgently. "None of us could care about that. It's you, Harry Potter, the _person_ we need. Please – you have to believe me."

"That's all I am Ginny. The-Boy-Who-Voldemort-Should-Have-Killed-But-Didn't with his famous scar, and his band of mindless followers, that's what the Daily Prophet called me isn't it? And now the whole of the Wizengamot knows that Voldemort can attack me through Legilimency whenever he wants. What am I going to be now? The-Boy-Who-Lived-His-Life-In-Azkaban, or In-St-Mungo's?"

"No they don't Harry." Ginny said quickly, still trying to get through the invisible barrier, and speaking as fast as she could. "Some Professor was using Legilimency on you, and he's under arrest. It wasn't You-Know-Who."

Harry turned to look at her. Tears were running down her cheeks, and she looked frantic.

"Please Harry!" She entreated.

"I heard that Auror and your mum." Harry said. "He was talking about Voldemort, said I wasn't safe, and might kill people, and he had to find me."

"That's not what he said!" Ginny cried, "They think this Professor's _working_ for You-Know-Who, and someone might try to kill you. Dumbledore wouldn't let them try to attack you. Fudge would have a riot on his hands anyway, haven't you read the Daily Prophet? Everyone wants Fudge out because of the way he treated you and everyone else last year! You have to believe me! Please… get away from the veil!"

Harry turned back once more, pushing his hand on the material, allowing a fingertip to pass underneath the stonework. It grew icy cold, and the very tip seemed to disappear. Harry withdrew it immediately. He stared at his hand, but it looked completely normal. For some reason, his mind flew to the Prophecy once more. _…Either must die at the hand of the other…_ Did that mean Voldemort was the only one that could kill him, just as he was the only one that could kill Voldemort? He was again struck by the urge to walk through the curtain. Once more he drew back.

"So Voldemort's back, and everyone needs The-Boy-Who-Lived again. I can't do it. I can't do this." He waved his hand in a half-hearted gesture.

"Harry…" Ginny began, but Harry interrupted her.

"I can't be this person that people want me to be. I can't do it. No-one would care less about what happened to me if I wasn't this 'hero' that banished him when I was a child. They seem to think I'm brave, and noble, and clever, some sort of six foot muscled guy who could stop curses with his bare hands, and k- kill dark wizards by blinking. I'm none of those things. I'm not special. I'm just me. Just Harry."

He turned to look at Ginny once more, and she looked away for a second. When she met Harry's haunted eyes again, she seemed to be having trouble opening her mouth to speak.

"No-one expects you to kill You-Know-Who Harry, that's not your job."

The bitterness in Harry's hollow laugh surprised even himself. "Wanna bet?"

"And you are special Harry." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she overrode him with a half sob, half laugh, which took him completely by surprise. "Anyone that can get that ass of a brother of mine to apologise for something in less than a month is nothing less than amazing.

"I was one of those people that had this vision of you as untouchable. Don't you remember me in first year? I thought you'd be this amazing guy, really confident, handsome, popular, cleverest person in the school. And then I met you. I was too scared to even talk to you, even though you were my brother's best friend. Then you saved my life in the Chamber, even though it was I that had released the basilisk." She shuddered at the memory. "It wasn't The-Boy-Who-Lived that saved my life, it was you, Harry.

"I was still too scared to talk to you, no matter what Ron, or the twins, or Hermione said. When I finally managed to pull up the courage to say something, you know what I found? That you were normal. Just like me. Even after everything you've been put through, you are a normal person. Someone that laughs, talks, and skips homework just like anyone else, and someone I'd take as a friend over what I'd imagined any day. You're special Harry, after being brought up with those Muggles, attacked by dark wizards, and dragons, and whatever else, you're still just you, just Harry. That's what makes you special."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, and the Weasley fire in Ginny ignited, and she said ferociously, wiping her tears from her face. "Don't you dare disagree with me! Now let me get down there."

"What?" Harry said blankly, as Ginny kept trying to push her way through the barrier. "Oh… I don't know how I'm doing that." He shook his head and then gave a sad smile and half shrug. "I don't really know what's happening at the moment."

There was silence for a few seconds, until Ginny asked, "What's that noise?"

"I think there are people whispering behind the veil." Harry said. "Dead people, or people that were forced through it."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Ginny prompted, softly.

"I don't know. When Sirius was sent flying through it, I thought he'd come back out a few seconds later." He swallowed. "I thought if only I could reach through the veil I could pull him back. But Lupin wouldn't let me." He turned away from Ginny again, face contorted with a superhuman effort not to let his emotions show.

"Harry, Sirius loved you. He'd have done anything to help you, and keep you safe. You were the thing that kept him going. You could just tell – when you were about he just became far happier. You didn't see him in the summer, before the Order fetched you from Privet Drive, he was restless, and looked as though he'd rather have been anywhere but Grimmauld Place, but when you came, that all changed. He'd have done anything to make you happy."

"Then why… why did he have to…" Harry's face fought for a minute, and then became an eerie model of composure.

"Why did he have to what, Harry?" Ginny asked, quietly.

"I don't want to talk about it Ginny, I'm sorry." Harry replied in a voice as hushed as hers.

"Have you talked to Lupin about Sirius at all?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"I don't… I just don't want to talk about him okay? Why does everyone want me to talk about him? You, Hermione, Tonks, Lupin, everyone! I'll talk about it when I'm ready." Harry said in a voice full of anguish.

"I just asked, because, well, Lupin isn't looking great either. Both of you seem to spend your time walking around with this huge weight on your shoulders, but he looks like he has no reason left to go on. As if he… I don't know… as if he is doing it, only because he knows he should. Does that make sense? And he won't talk to anyone either, Mum told me. I don't think anyone other than you really knew Sirius nearly as well."

Harry slumped to the ground, until he was sitting on the platform, back against the frame of the archway, elbows on knees, hands supporting his head. Up on the benches, Ginny found she could move towards him again, and slowly made her way down, one step at a time. Harry watched her approaching cautiously. He felt exhausted.

"How did you get in here?" He asked Ginny. "Nobody else seemed to be able to find me, except the Auror up there." He pointed to the door that he had sealed shut. "And they must know where I am, and they still haven't come in."

"I had a feeling you'd be here." Ginny told him.

"I didn't have much of a choice, everywhere else seemed to have people in, or trying to find me."

"Okay, I just thought you'd be here anyway." Ginny said, sitting down beside him. "Feminine intuition. Some Irish Auror managed to break the sealing charm on the door. I made him promise that I'd go in alone if I told him where I thought you'd be."

"So he's still up there now?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"And he's not going to throw me into some prison cell somewhere?"

"No, Harry. Can you imagine what Dumbledore would do if he tried?"

Harry gave a small chuckle. "I guess. Do they know what happened in there?"

"I don't know." Ginny told him. "What did happen?"

"Voldemort tried to access my memories I think. Fudge was asking me what was in the Prophecy, and I could tell Voldemort was trying to see my memories. I don't know why that professor cried out."

"You know what the Prophecy is." It was a statement, not a question.

Harry looked at her, but said nothing. Her tear stained face was looking at him shrewdly.

"From what the Auror said, they think that professor guy was trying to perform Legilimency on you, to try to learn what the Prophecy was. Are you sure it was You-Know-Who Harry?" Ginny said, changing the subject back.

"Yeah. My scar hurt. It had been hurting all day. I guess he was trying to spy on the hearing. It was Voldemort alright. No idea what's up with the professor."

There was a slight pause, then they both spoke at once.

"Well-"

"Harry-"

"Go on." Ginny said.

"No, you."

"You know you can't control what You-Know-Who does, don't you Harry?"

Harry grunted, warily.

"Nothing he does, or shows you, is your fault, you can't stop him doing that. You aren't forcing him to do anything."

"Ron told you." Harry said flatly.

"Sorry?" Ginny asked.

"Ron told you about the vision I saw, didn't he? I thought I asked him not to." Harry stood up, annoyed.

Ginny stood up too and there was fire in her eyes once more. "Yes he did. He was worried about you, we all are Harry."

"I'll manage. Probably manage a lot better if people actually are decent enough to do what I ask them to." Harry said walking to the other end of the platform, back turned to Ginny.

"Are you afraid people will blame you for seeing these things?"

"Will Dean blame me?" Harry shot back.

"I… I don't know. I don't think so. He doesn't want to see anyone at the moment. I've only seen him once since." Ginny admitted.

Harry turned back to her and gave a little shrug, as if to say 'There you go then!' He scanned the room above him. It almost looked like a gladiatorial pit. He wondered if people used to fight each other for people's amusement in ancient times, where whoever pushed the other through the veil won.

"But he doesn't know what's going on Harry, none of us that do would even think about it."

"Yeah, well, that's a comfort, good thing most people know what's happening then isn't it?" Harry said moodily. "And you can bet Voldemort will let them know it's my fault anyway."

"Why didn't you want me to know about the vision? Why did you tell Ron not to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know it was my fault." Harry said gruffly. "Dean is your boyfriend, after all. I didn't want you to blame me."

"I know it's not your fault Harry, it's just you that doesn't!"

"You didn't hear what he said Ginny. He wouldn't have gone after Dean's family if it wasn't for me. He told her the only reason he was doing it was to make Dean hate my guts. Well, not in those exact words. If it wasn't for me, Mrs Thomas would have been okay."

"And somebody else would have been hurt instead. Would that have made it any better?" Ginny asked.

"No, but at least it wouldn't have been my fault." Harry said exasperatedly. "I suppose I should be used to it by now. In first year everyone whispered about me behind my back because I was _the_ Harry Potter, second year because I could speak Parseltongue, third because of Sirius, fourth because the idiots thought I wanted to be in that goddamned tournament, and fifth because… well… yeah. Now I'm going to be the person who caused all their family members to be tortured."

Ginny shook her head. "You don't fool me Harry, you don't give a damn what those idiots think. And it's only the idiots that would blame you."

"Yeah? You say that now, but what would you think if your mum or dad, or a brother was killed by Voldemort, and he told you he only did it because you knew me? He might be the first person you blame, but who would the second be? Me."

"No!" Ginny protested. "Harry, there's no way I'd do that, nor would Ron, or anyone!"

Harry snorted softly, shook his head, and gave her a sad smile. "I guess we'd better head back, see what happens now."

"Don't change the subject." Ginny yelled after him. "It's not your fault!"

Harry simply climbed the first step, and then leaned down to help Ginny up with him. They climbed in silence. As they reached the final step, Ginny turned to Harry once more.

"Thanks, Harry."

"Thanks? For what?" Harry asked.

"For not going through the archway." Ginny said, leading the way to the door, where Auror McCarthy was waiting for them, before Harry could answer.

"You alright you two?" He asked them.

"Yeah." They said together. Harry may have muttered it, but Ginny's reply carried conviction.

"You might want to, er, clean up before we head back down, like." He said with a wink to Ginny, who felt her face, and turned slightly red. "Besides, didn't you say you needed to go yourself Mr Potter, before all this happened?" He grinned.

"Erm, yeah." Harry said, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry about this." The Auror continued. "My fault, I didn't realise you'd think we were trying to arrest you, you know! Should have thought a bit, not all of us agreed with what the Minister was saying last year."

"Thanks." Harry said, not knowing what to say.

"That was some impressive magic you did there Mr Potter." The Auror continued, as they walked back out of the Department of Mysteries.

"Well, I wasn't really in control of it." Harry replied, still rather put off his stride by the Auror's praise.

"I know." McCarthy nodded, "That's what makes it impressive. Without a wand you were putting some powerful charms up, even without realising it. And you were maintaining them too. Very impressive magic I'd say."

Harry mumbled something indistinctly, but even he didn't know what it was.

When they were finally standing outside the courtroom again, Mrs Weasley, who had looked quite distressed, leapt up, and this time did give Harry a bone crunching hug.

"Oh my dear, I was so worried!" She said as she gave him air, only to give him another hug immediately after.

Harry looked over her shoulder to see Ginny smirking at him.

"Are you quite alright dear? There was such a commotion" Here she shot the Auror a glare, "that I was quite worried."

Harry fought for breath, "Yeah, I'm fine Mrs Weasley, really. Auror McCarthy was great about the whole thing, and Ginny really helped. I'm fine. Really. It was just a shock, that's all." He gave the Auror a grin, "I didn't expect to be on the run from the law at someone else's trial."

McCarthy gave a good humoured laugh. "Indeed not Mr Potter. If you're ready, we'd better head back in."

So with a last glance towards Ginny and Mrs Weasley, Harry re-entered the courtroom.


	8. And Their Immediate Aftermath

**Chapter 8: … and Their Immediate Aftermath**

Harry stepped back into courtroom four nervously, the Auror Dreyfus McCarthy following behind. A worried looking Ron and Hermione were sitting down once more and Hermione at least seemed to give a visible sigh of relief when they saw Harry. A split second later, however, Harry started. Sitting in a chair in the middle of the floor was not Severus Snape (who, Harry realised, had still not been recalled to the courtroom), but rather Professor Robin Fleming, in a position next to Snape's chair. Not only this, but he was bound by chains. Like a prisoner. His head was bowed and limp, as though he were sleeping.

The whole of the Wizengamot seemed to sigh as he was brought in, as if an atmosphere of impatience had finally been lifted. Harry looked around nervously, fancying that the Wizengamot were more than willing to punish him for the delay. _Maybe they'd like to have Voldemort loose in their heads!_ He thought, irritably.

"I trust everything is completely alright now Mr Potter." Fudge said, with no attempt whatsoever to hide his annoyance. "Merlin knows it's taken long enough."

The Auror beside him stepped forward before Harry could say a word. It was almost as if he was trying to deflect the intolerance that was circulating the room away from Harry, and towards his rather more solid frame instead.

"I'm afraid that's my fault Minister." He said calmly. "I startled Mr Potter by my thoughtlessness, and combined with the fact that an assailant had just invaded his mind, obviously having caused considerable pain in the process, I felt that forcing him back here for the trial prematurely would be unnecessarily cruel."

"Very well." Fudge spat. "If you could both please take your seats then, unless, of course, there is something else? I understand that there may be some repercussions from what has just happened, which we may have to deal with later."

Harry whispered a hurried 'thanks' to the Auror, and retook his seat next to Ron and Hermione. They both shot worried glances towards him, and Harry wondered how much they knew about the reason for his long absence. Worse, he wondered if something had happened in the courtroom after Ginny had talked to him, which meant he was, after all, going to be punished for having his head ripped open. Or the magic he had done running away.

The entire Wizengamot were now staring at the man in the chair, and to Harry's surprise, Fudge was scowling at him in a way that seemed to convey complete and utter loathing.

"Now that everyone is here," He sneered in Harry's direction, "It appears that we have to sort out _this_ debacle."

Professor Dumbledore stood up, interrupting him. "Seeing as the accused, being his own council, is not here, I feel it is my duty to ensure his interests are being represented." He began.

Fudge turned to glare at the headmaster, but it would have been a brave man indeed to attempt to silence him. "Very well, Dumbledore."

"Thank you Cornelius." Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Now then, given that either the prosecution or another, as yet unknown party, seem to have attempted to circumvent the laws of this court, by illegally performing Legilimency on a witness, I would request that the court throws out the request to learn about the Prophecy concerning both Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort."

"Out of the question." Fudge spluttered.

Madam Bones however, calmly asked, "On what grounds, Professor?"

"Why on the same grounds that were used to banish the accused from the court Madam Bones." Dumbledore replied. "Given the events, it appears obvious that this was a pre-meditated decision, if this is the case, it also seems obvious that we have untrustworthy people in this courtroom, who may be able to get word to Voldemort about the contents of this Prophecy. As Ms Umbridge said, and the Minister and you agreed when ejecting Professor Snape from the court, we cannot risk this. Seeing as it is impossible to determine whether there are other people with similar mal-intent, the contents of the Prophecy must be thrown out."

Madam Bones gave him a piercing look, and after a deliberation of a few seconds, nodded. "Agreed. The Wizengamot throws out any discussion of this Prophecy's contents as evidence."

"Thank you Madam Bones. May I also suggest, that as discussion of this Prophecy's contents is now forbidden, the accused is allowed to return to the courtroom."

"Certainly. Could the court scribe please inform the Aurors and the prisoner?"

Percy Weasley stood up once more and left the room. Harry wondered what was said, if anything, when he walked past Mrs Weasley and Ginny. Percy really needed to be knocked back to his senses before he lost his family forever.

Before Percy could return, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and hissed, "What happened?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then Hermione answered. "We don't know. They enervated Fleming and all he seemed to be able to say was 'I saw You-Know-Who' over and over again. Fudge called for Aurors to go and find you in case Voldemort was around. They gave Fleming some kind of potion, and he seemed to fall asleep. I imagine it was a really strong calming draught or something."

"Never mind that!" Ron said, "Are you okay? Was it You-Know-Who?"

"Shh!" Harry said quickly, looking around, but no-one had heard. "Yeah, it was. Why did Fleming go all cuckoo?"

"Maybe…" Hermione said slowly.

"Maybe what?" Ron asked.

"Well, maybe Fleming was trying to perform Legilimency too, at the same time. He must understand what he's doing if he teaches it-"

Harry and Ron snorted, but Hermione ignored them, and continued.

"-he teaches it, so maybe he could sense V- Voldemort's presence?"

"But why would he do it?" Harry asked. "If he was working for Voldemort he wouldn't be saying he'd seen him."

"Wait a minute." Ron said. "Maybe Fleming was doing it under Fudge's orders."

"Fudge?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Not even he…"

But he trailed off – Hermione was nodding.

"That's what I think too." She said.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Percy, Snape, and the Aurors, had returned. Snape glanced at the chair and stopped. He then glared at Fudge, but spoke quite politely to Madam Bones.

"Madam Bones, could you fill me in on what I just missed please? I believed I was the one on trial here."

Harry and Ron looked at each other in astonishment. Did Snape just crack a joke? The tension in the room decreased suddenly, as smiles were shown once more.

"Certainly, Professor Snape. If you'd take your seat?"

The still shackled Snape swept to his chair, looking at his erstwhile opponent in the field of Legilimency with interest.

Fudge looked as if he was about to speak, but Madam Bones beat him to it. "You shall not be silenced, Professor Snape, but I would advise you not to make any outbursts, or my colleague shall repeat his curse."

Harry wondered if she had come to the same conclusion that Hermione had, for it seemed she wasn't going to allow Fudge to take the initiative at all. That is, if Fudge had it in him to take the initiative. He still had some fight left however, which is more than could be said for his Undersecretary. Umbridge had apparently disappeared into the shadows; she was certainly trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Harry realised that Fudge hadn't looked at her once since he had come back into the courtroom. Perhaps Ron had been right.

"Of course, thank you Madam Bones." Snape replied courteously, and Harry could tell he sensed the tide had utterly turned in his favour.

"Mr Fleming there attempted to perform Legilimency on Mr Potter during part of his testimony –"

"Excuse me Madam Bones, but this was testimony about the Prophecy I assume?"

"Indeed."

"Thank you." Snape had an arrested look on his face, and he swung his head to look at Harry for a second.

"As I was saying, he performed Legilimency on Mr Potter, but it seems Mr Potter managed to expel him from his mind."

At this, Snape's eyes grew wide, and he turned to look at Harry with a half-satisfied smile on his lips. Harry could tell that he was giving himself credit for this, and he scowled back.

"Has he said anything that might explain his motives Ma'am?"

"Not yet. He couldn't make sense when we woke him, so we have given him a soothing solution. We were about to question him, when Albus successfully challenged the use of the Prophecy as evidence, and asked you to be returned. Minister Fudge, would you like to do the honours?"

Fudge pointed his wand at the man, and said clearly, "Enervate."

The man slowly came to. He looked as if he had just come out of a deep sleep. His eyes sagged groggily, and the first sound he made was a stifled yawn. He tried to raise his hand to his mouth, but, obviously, failed. The fact that he was chained seemed to be the thing that brought him back to full wakefulness.

"What happened? Why the hell am I in chains?" He asked sharply.

"Mr Fleming," Fudge began with complete disgust in his voice. "You have been caught performing Legilimency on a witness, Harry Potter, which, as I am no doubt you are aware, is completely against the Wizengamot laws."

"Merlin's beard! Harry Potter!" Fleming interrupted. "Minister, I saw him! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – in Harry Potter's mind!"

The court broke into a bout of muttering. All of them were looking over towards Harry, who shrank back in his chair slightly. Nervously, he patted his fringe down. Although he didn't think hiding his scar would hide the fact he was Harry Potter this time.

"Settle down please." Madam Bones' voice boomed across the courtroom.

"Go on," Fudge said, his interest obviously piqued. "You-Know-Who, in the boy's mind? How can he have got there?"

"Madam Bones," Snape began, "interesting as this may be, I should dearly like to know what reference it has to this trial. Surely our time would be much better spent seeing who it was exactly, if anyone, that set him up to this?"

"Be quiet." Fudge snapped. "Let the witness talk."

"I believe," Dumbledore said serenely, "that the accused has a point, Madam Bones, how exactly does this move towards exonerating, or condemning Severus?"

"Minister?" Madam Bones prompted. "If you can answer this, I would be very much obliged."

Fudge took a couple of deep breaths, as if to control his emotions, before saying smoothly, "Why, this calls into question the mental stability of one of the previous witnesses. Just as this witness' credibility has been called into question, his consequent evidence may also raise doubts over the veracity of Harry Potter's testimony."

Harry vaguely heard Ron whisper from beside him 'ver-what?', but he paid him no heed. He was beet red, and gave a quick irrational thought to reaching for his wand. How _dare_ he try to call him mad again? Fudge's stupid excuses had made his life bad enough last year!

He rose from his seat before Ron could stop him, and yelled, "Haven't you tired of trying to tell the world I'm insane yet? I thought when I'd finally been proved right about Voldemort's return you'd give up!"

Ron was pulling on his arm, trying to force him back down, but to no avail.

"Potter!" Snape spat furiously across the room before anyone else could say a word. "For once in your life control your emotions!"

There was renewed mutterings in the Wizengamot, and Madam Bones was forced to bang her wand once more to make herself heard.

"Quiet! I will not allow this trial to degenerate into a circus." She bellowed. "Mr Potter, sit down. I want to hear no more interruptions from you for the remainder of this trial, is that understood?"

Harry was breathing heavily, as if he had just done some very strenuous exercise, and he struggled to slow his breathing down, and think.

"Is that understood?" Madam Bones repeated fiercely.

"Yes, Ma'am." Harry said, willing himself to calm down. He sat.

"Good, because if it isn't, I will willingly eject you from this court, or at the very least silence you until you may be required to speak. Professor Snape," She continued, turning away from Harry, "I believe you have already been warned on numerous occasions against interruptions. Seeing as yours was not the initial disruption, however, you may consider this your last warning."

Fudge looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Madam Bones turned her furious face towards him this time.

"Minister, I believe that we have already heard confirmations from two witnesses about the majority of Mr Potter's testimony, it appears to me, that not much he has said can be disproved."

"Some, but not all of it can be considered supported," Fudge asserted, "for example, his claims about his detentions with Professor Umbridge, the events that occurred in her office, his knowledge of the accused's ability to perform Legilimency, his claims about what took place in the Department of Mysteries, his claims that the Prophecy did indeed smash, or that he failed to hear it –"

"The contents of the Prophecy may have no bearing in this hearing." Madam Bones cut in, furiously.

"Indeed." Fudge replied swiftly, "I was not going to speculate upon its contents, but merely was pointing out that many of Mr Potter's statements may or may not be true. Also, we must bear in mind, that both the witnesses that concurred with his events are very close friends of his, it is only natural that they would agree with his version."

Ron had turned scarlet now, too, and Hermione whispered so sharply that the whole Wizengamot could hear, "Shut up, the pair of you."

There was a small laugh that was quickly stifled from the upper tier, and Madam Bones' mouth became a little less thin.

"Thank you Miss Granger." Hermione blushed. "Minister, you may continue, but Merlin help me, this had better be worth it, I still intend to carry out that inquest."

"Thank you. So, Professor, have you any idea how You-Know-Who got into Mr Potter's mind? Was it a remnant of him, from days, weeks, or months ago, or was it current?"

"I…" Fleming looked unwilling to speak.

"Mr Fleming, we are already aware that you were attempting to perform Legilimency on Mr Potter, refusal to answer Minister Fudge's questions will only make things worse for yourself." Madam Bones warned.

He obviously considered these words for a while, before replying, "I'm not sure. I don't think it was just a remnant however, it was far too strong. Whatever it was caused unbelievable pain when I was expelled. It could have been anything, a charm, the Imperious curse, Legilimency, or he could have possessed the boy, we all know he boasts some very powerful abilities."

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore cut in, "this is all just hearsay. We have no proof for any of this except for the Professor's word, and at the moment, that, I would venture to say, is not entirely trustworthy."

"Agreed. Can you offer any further backing to this claim, something solid? Professor Fleming?"

Robin Fleming, Head Professor of Defence of the Mind, in the Auror Training at the Ministry, was silent for a moment, obviously trying to think. Fudge answered for him, however.

"The boy came face to face with You-Know-Who under two months ago Dumbledore, he could easily have cast a charm upon him then, or cast the Imperius curse. Or he could have since, I do not think we need to offer proof for these possibilities, everyone can see they exist."

Harry bit his lip. He didn't like the way this conversation was going, and didn't see how anything to do with him could impact upon the trial at all. Fudge wanted revenge. That was it, he told himself.

"Really Cornelius?" Dumbledore replied mildly, "You forget that I was there when Voldemort faced Harry, and in fact duelled with him. I can vouch for the fact that Voldemort cast no charm upon him. As for Voldemort turning up at Harry's home, and casting a curse which prevented anyone from using Legilimency on him, why, even if such a curse exists, I fail to understand what he would gain from it. Quite apart from this, Voldemort would be unable to touch Harry there without disabling the charms protecting him first, and then I would know."

"And why should you be the one to control these charms for the protection of Harry Potter?" Fudge spat viciously. "Something as important as this should be in the hands of the Ministry and their team of specially trained operatives."

"I asked Felian Doggett, who was Minister at the time if I could be the one to place any protective charms, and he agreed with me wholeheartedly." Dumbledore continued in the same mild voice. "That however, is neither here nor there, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Yes, well… I am not so arrogant as to assume I know how the way You-Know-Who's mind works Dumbledore! I am sure he may have a very good reason in his own mind for casting whatever jinxes he chooses. You say he cast no spell on Potter when they last met, and is unable to have done so since without your knowledge? Well assuming you are not wrong-"

"That is, of course, always a possibility." Dumbledore agreed pleasantly.

"Assuming you are not wrong, well, he could have cast a spell earlier couldn't he? After all, if the stories in the papers are anything to go by, Harry Potter duelled with him on his own over a year ago. And of course it has been well reported that Harry Potter feels pain in the scar that You-Know-Who gave him. Is it too much of a leap in reasoning to suppose that there is some kind of magical connection between the two of them? Especially given the circumstances? Surely there is every reason in the world to allow Mr Fleming's testimony."

"Do you really believe that the Dark Lord would intentionally abduct Potter, the boy that the world believes defeated him the first time, tell his supporters he was going to kill him, and then allow him to escape, Minister?" Snape asked contemptuously.

"I… Well… There's still the matter of the scar…" Fudge spluttered, almost incoherently.

"So you are trying to prove to the Wizengamot that the Dark Lord has the power to control Potter over long distances, any time he wishes?" Snape asked him, in a snide voice.

"Well, it must be allowed as a possibility." Fudge said, speaking defensively. "We all know he is a very powerful wizard."

"Fine with me." Snape said, sitting back into his chair lazily. "Go ahead, I won't stop you."

Fudge goggled at him, without saying a word. Harry could almost see the cogs in his brain turning. When he made no reply, Snape continued, speaking to Madam Bones this time.

"Madam Bones, the Minister wants to prove that the Dark Lord somehow has a connection to Harry Potter that allows him to influence him at will. I will willingly concede this point, without any further discussion on the subject."

"Very well, Professor Snape." Madam Bones replied. "Minister, the point has been conceded, you have successfully proven that there is a possibility You-Know-Who may be able to have influenced Harry Potter, and his testimony. Can we continue please?"

"If I may, Madam Bones, I'd like to say something?" Snape cut in.

"Certainly."

"If, as the Minister has successfully argued, Harry Potter can be influenced by the Dark Lord whenever he wishes, then I would ask the Wizengamot to question why, if I were in his service, he would require me to fool the boy into going to the Ministry of Magic, and the Department of Mysteries, after a Prophecy. I would also ask the Wizengamot to consider the fact that the Minister's witness, the one who was telling you what exactly I could or couldn't do, if I so wished, with Legilimency, has shown that he cares little for laws himself, openly defying the Wizengamot's own laws of procedure."

Fudge gawked at Snape, and opened and closed his mouth like a suffocating fish. There was a silence where the entire room was looking at the Minister, and watching him seemingly search for a place to hide. At last, he spoke, in a weak voice which grew steadily stronger.

"That is not what I aimed to prove at all Snape, I- I was merely pointing out that there have been instances recently where the mental stability of Mr Potter has been in question. I mean, he claims to have seen a dead man! Pettigrew! I ask you! We all know that Sirius Black brutally murdered him along with thirteen Muggles years ago, and yet Potter has also been heard to claim that Black is innocent! Whether it is You-Know-Who behind the scar in his head, or just madness makes no difference!"

"Minister," Madam Bones replied cuttingly, "Mr Potter is sitting right there, listening to every word you say, perhaps you would like to hear what he has to say in reply to your accusations?"

Harry, who was physically being restrained into his seat by Ron, breathed deeply, trying to keep control of his emotions, and not make an arse out of himself.

"Mr Potter?" Madam Bones prompted.

Harry took a couple of seconds longer to compose himself, and then spoke from his seat.

"That is exactly what the Minister was saying when I told him that Voldemort had returned, and who his supporters were. Well, because of that, Voldemort had a year to do whatever he wanted to regain his strength and gain followers, and the people I named had an extra year before being thrown into Azkaban didn't they? Sirius is innocent, and maybe he'll believe it when he sees Pettigrew this time. S- Sirius died saving my life fighting the Death Eaters, how could he confund me to believe that?"

"A very mature response." Madam Bones replied, glowering at Fudge.

"We have witnesses that swore to seeing Black kill Pettigrew. And it wasn't just Pettigrew that he killed. Are those Muggles somehow still alive too?" Fudge replied, looking distinctly hot under the collar.

"Pettigrew's an animagus." Harry said loudly. "I've seen him twice; he was the one that helped Voldemort back into his body. He was the one that killed the Muggles and betrayed my parents."

Fudge actually laughed in disbelief. Worse, some of the people in the Wizengamot did too. Snape turned around and glared at him. He looked furious. Dumbledore was shaking his head at Harry, as if trying to tell him to keep quiet, but Harry didn't care.

"And are there any objective witnesses you can call to back up your tall stories? Aside, of course from your two friends who will back-up anything you say, and a werewolf who was a good friend of Black. Maybe we should just go and ask some Death Eaters? We have plenty of witnesses who saw what happened, we also have the word of the Chief Warlock that Black was James and Lily Potter's secret keeper. We have plenty of proof."

Harry looked around desperately. The entire Wizengamot were grinning now, as if they found his plea for Sirius' innocence funny in a pitiful kind of way. _You fool!_ He told himself. _So what if you were proved right in the end last year, they'll still think you're a nutter!_ Snape's eyes were closed now, as if his day couldn't have got any worse. The fleeting idea that he probably thought that even at his own trial Harry and Sirius were stealing the spotlight entered Harry's mind.

Suddenly, the answer hit him. "Veritaserum!" He called out desperately. "Give me Veritaserum! That will prove it!"

Fudge laughed again, "That will only prove you believe what you are saying. Not that these events actually occurred."

Professor Snape cut in with a growl. "Could somebody please tell me what the _hell_ this has to do with my trial?"

"I happen to agree with you." Madam Bones agreed firmly. "I have heard just about enough of this case. And at the moment it is going absolutely nowhere. There seems to be nothing else for the prosecution to say in relation to the trial, so I would ask the Wizengamot to raise their hands, if, like me, they believe that Professor Snape should be cleared of all charges."

A little less than half the Wizengamot raised their hands immediately. Their neighbours looked around at them, then at Fudge, then at Madam Bones, and gradually, a spattering of people raised theirs too. It was very close to being half, but which side of half it was, Harry couldn't tell. He could hardly believe it. It seemed obvious that Fudge had less than half a leg to stand on. Hermione must have been right; he must have bought the court. Maybe that was why he was willing to touch such dangerous subjects as were raised. Perhaps the way his case had simply crumbled had caused some people to change their minds. Harry certainly hoped so. After Fudge's latest outburst, Harry wouldn't mind seeing him fed to Buckbeak – Malfoy for starters, Fudge for dessert.

"I see." Madam Bones' eyes narrowed, her voice was quiet now, and somehow more dangerous than her normal booming bark. "Very well. All those who believe, that given the evidence we have heard today, Professor Snape is guilty, please raise your hands."

The rest of the Wizengamot, as one, raised their hands. Harry glanced over at Snape, whose face had turned slightly to take in the vote. To his absolute disbelief, Snape was still sitting in as relaxed a pose as Harry had ever seen him. Harry was struck by a sudden thought. If Snape was sent away, then Voldemort would naturally believe that Snape may still be a loyal Death Eater. When Voldemort broke his imprisoned followers out of Azkaban, he was likely to take Snape with him too. Perhaps Snape would use this to discover information about the Death Eaters once more. _Or perhaps – _a little voice said inside Harry's head – _perhaps he would rejoin Voldemort's side and fight against Dumbledore, if he had, in fact, ever been away._

Madam Bones looked down and seemingly read from her notes. Harry supposed that some form of magic had tallied the votes and given her the result. She stiffened slightly, and a leaden feeling suddenly fell through his throat, and almost past his stomach before it had begun.

"The result," She began, slowly, "by just three votes, with one abstention, goes in favour of Professor Snape."

"What?" Fudge snapped angrily. "Let me see that, who…"

Madam Bones cut him off. "Professor Snape, you are free to go. Your wand will be returned to you by Auror Dawlish."

The chains that had bound him to the chair slipped free, and fell to the floor. Professor Snape stood up, brushing his robes down, as if they were dusty, and then, nodding to Madam Bones and Professor Dumbledore, he left the room with measured strides, Aurors following him to the door.

Madam Bones wasn't finished however, once Professor Snape left, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were about to stand and follow suit, she continued. "I'm sure I needn't remind you all, that any discussion to outside parties about this case is expressly forbidden by law. I certainly would not advise you to attempt to break the charm, given what happened to the last person that attempted to do just that. All you may tell people is that Professor Snape was found not guilty. Court adjourned. Mr Potter and Mr McCarthy, could you wait behind please."

Harry glanced at Ron, and Hermione, who looked back equally confused.

"What do they want with me now?" He muttered.

"Must be about what Fleming did." Ron replied in a low tone. "Look, he's still chained."

"Yeah, but why the Auror too?" Harry asked. "Unless… oh crap… this must be about the magic I did!"

"You did magic?" Hermione asked, horror struck, "Oh Harry, this isn't Grimmauld Place you know!"

"I know that!" Harry said nettled, and louder than he had intended to. He lowered his voice again. "I didn't mean to do the magic, I just did. I thought they were trying to arrest me for having Voldemort in my head. I don't know what I was doing, I just seemed to do magic."

"You've got to tell us what happened when we get out of here, you –" but Ron stopped mid sentence, people were starting to move, and leave the courtroom.

They watched the Wizengamot file out of the room (Umbridge fled as fast as she could) until the court was empty, save for Madam Bones, Professor Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, Dreyfus McCarthy, and, of course, Professor Fleming and the three nervously waiting teenagers. Madam Bones beckoned them forward, and they walked to the grim, chained chairs nervously, where Dumbledore conjured three armchairs for them.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, you can wait outside." Fudge said bossily.

"They can stay." Madam Bones said curtly. "Now, Professor Fleming, I am well aware that you performed Legilimency on the prosecution's orders, is that not so?"

Fudge gaped at her. Fleming seemed almost as stunned.

"I- No, of course – I…" Fleming trailed off.

"Come now Professor, it is the only rational explanation, admit to it in a written confession now, and I will be willing to forego the trial that I would ordinarily pursue, and you need not be sent to Azkaban."

"Amelia –" Fudge began in an almost placating tone, but Madam Bones was having none of it.

"I am offering this chance so it need not go public Minister." She said without looking at him. "Now. Professor?"

"Well… It was Madam Umbridge who asked me to."

"I see." She passed her notepad to the Professor, and her quill and ink. The chains binding him disappeared at some unsaid command. "Please write words to that effect, and sign."

Fleming did so, and soon was on his way out of the door.

"Thank you, Minister, that is what I wanted you to stay behind to see, you may go now."

"And what do you want to talk to Potter for?" Fudge asked, nastily.

"I wish to conduct an initial hearing privately, to see if there has been any breach of underage magic." She replied coolly.

Fudge, obviously not wishing to suffer any more of Madam Bones' ire, allowed himself to be dismissed without a fight. There was something about the way his shoulders slouched as he left the courtroom that in another situation might have made Harry feel sorry for him.

Madam Bones let out a huge sigh, but whether it was out of relief that Fudge had gone or not, Harry couldn't tell.

"Auror McCarthy." She began.

"Yes Ma'am." The Irishman replied smartly.

"I have been told that there was a case of underage wizardry during our enforced recess earlier, where Aurors and Ministry personnel were flung back into the lift, or prevented access through doors, by Mr Potter. Is that correct?"

"No Ma'am." McCarthy replied.

"No? But we have extensive eye-witnesses to the case. Auror Dawlish reported being hit by the Impediment jinx, and the door he was trying to enter being locked by a charm he was unable to break. Did these things happen?"

Ron looked admiringly at Harry, and even Hermione, as worried as she looked, also seemed slightly impressed.

"They did Ma'am, but Mr Potter did not use his wand, it all appeared accidental. He believed we were going to arrest him, rather than that we wanted to guard his safety. None of the spells that he used were aggressive in any way, and all of them seemed to be done without his intent."

"That is some very powerful accidental magic." Madam Bones replied dubiously.

"Yes Ma'am, very powerful, but for a person his age to be able to perform wandless magic that powerful is even less likely."

"Very true." Madam Bones replied, ruminatively. "Do we have confirmation that he did not use his wand?"

"I don't know Ma'am, but it is not difficult to check."

"Very well, is this true Mr Potter?"

Harry couldn't agree quickly enough, it looked like he was going to be alright. "Yes Ma'am, I didn't really know what I was doing, or how I did it, it just sort of happened."

"Very well." She smiled. "You do seem to have your brushes with underage magic Mr Potter, but I do not believe this warrants further investigation. Thank you Mr McCarthy, you may go now."

Harry flashed the Auror a grateful smile as he left the room.

"There is another reason I wished you to stay." The Head of Magical Law Enforcement continued. "Albus Dumbledore has asked me to reopen the case on Sirius Black."

Harry stared at her for a second, before a mixture between delight and relief played its way on to his face. Sirius' innocence was finally on its way to be proved. Sudden shame crept its way into his head about his outburst earlier, when Dumbledore had managed to reopen the case anyway, but he pushed it out of his mind quickly. There would be time enough to feel guilty later, after all, Snape had got off, hadn't he?

"I can tell you are pleased with this possibility. However, before I grant Albus' request, I would like to ask you a few questions. Firstly, all three of you say you have seen Peter Pettigrew alive, and that he is an animagus?"

"Yes, he –" Harry began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Just answer the question please."

All three of them nodded.

"Was there anything you particularly noticed about Pettigrew?" She asked.

"Well, he's missing a finger." Hermione supplied.

Madam Bones nodded, as if this was what she had wanted to hear. "Good. Now did you see Sirius Black die?"

Hermione and Ron shook their heads no, but Harry, with a slight lump in his throat replied in the affirmative.

"How did he die? Just the facts please."

Harry was silent for a few seconds, fighting the emotion, not wanting to get upset in front of everyone. "He… He died saving my life. He was duelling Bellatrix Lestrange and was hit by a curse. He went through the curtain."

"In the Arch Room in the Department of Mysteries." Dumbledore supplied.

Harry noticed that Madam Bones seemed to be more interested in his face than what he had said. At least, she was gazing intently at him. Finally, she lent back in her chair and nodded.

"Very well. I shall conduct an inquest." Harry let out his breath, which he only just realised he had been holding since he finished speaking. "Are you still willing to undertake the use of Veritaserum Mr Potter? Bear in mind that you will have no control over anything you say."

"Ye…" Harry stopped, a lot of the things he had to say could jeopardise the Order.

He looked across to Dumbledore, who was looking intently at him, and it struck him, as if they had communicated without words. He turned back to Madam Bones.

"I'll take the Veritaserum… as long as… as long as Professor Dumbledore is the only one to ask the questions."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry was quiet on the trip back up to the atrium. He especially found it hard to speak to Ginny. She had seen a side of him that he wasn't proud of, and would have rather kept secret. He was quite glad, therefore, when Hermione kept them entertained by explaining what exactly had happened to Carol Verkausky, who had tried to reveal to the press what had happened in the Vampire Romanovsky's trial in 1962. (She had read about it in _Important Trials of the Twentieth Century_ by some author, whose name Harry didn't catch. Why exactly she had been reading it, Harry didn't know, except, perhaps, because it had a cover and a lot of pages.)

Mrs Weasley was to return by floo to The Burrow, where, if all was safe, she would send Tonks through to let them know they could come. They couldn't risk flooing straight back to Grimmauld Place of course, seeing as they were using the Ministry's floo. It seemed to Harry, that he was having to suffer even more security than last year. Mad-Eye Moody, however, had insisted upon it. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny loitered around the notice declaring the imminent new statue, while waiting for Tonks.

"Harry!" An unwelcome voice whispered in his ear. It was Rita Skeeter.

"What do you want?" He replied warily.

"An interview with the Boy-Who-Lived about how he feels knowing his Potion's master may be a Death Eater working against him for You-Know-Who of course."

"How do you know about the trial?" Ron asked aggressively.

"Why it's public knowledge of course you silly boy. Now what isn't public knowledge is what happened in the trial." Her eyes went misty all of a sudden, as if imagining finding out all this information.

"He was found not guilty." Harry said shortly. "Now shove off."

"What are your feelings about being taught by someone who might want to kill you, Harry? Scared? Angry? Any of that anger directed towards Dumbledore for that appointment?"

"It's happened before." Harry growled. "If you make up anything about me, then I'll let everyone know about your little secret, so stop bugging me."

Rita Skeeter recoiled. "She promised." She hissed, pointing at Hermione.

"She did." Hermione agreed. "But Harry didn't."

As Rita Skeeter turned angrily to go, Harry was struck by an idea. "Rita?" He called.

She turned back to him, eyes ablaze with hunger for the story and replied ingratiatingly. "What, Harry?"

"If you want my advice, you'll forget about the Snape story, and go after Minister Fudge and Umbridge."

"As in his Undersecretary, and former Inquisitor of Hogwarts?" Rita asked with a glint in her eyes, which seemed to be as wide as saucers.

"Yeah. But no quotes from me, understand?"

"That'll teach Fudge what it feels like." Harry said in satisfaction after Rita Skeeter had gone.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

It certainly did not take Rita Skeeter long to work her own dubious form of magic, for early the next day before Harry's Occlumency lesson, Hermione (who was taking the Daily Prophet while she was back in England) let out a gasp, and spread the paper on the table, knocking cutlery and plates out of the way. On the front page, was a large bold headline:

_**Inquisitor of Hogwarts Must Face Inquisition!**_

Followed by the first paragraph:

_Dolores Umbridge must be called to account for the actions she took while employed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, _reports Rita Skeeter. _Minister Fudge's controversial decrees that allowed him to virtually assume control of arguably Europe's most prestigious school have since been revoked, but the happenings that these laws allowed to take place must be addressed. Students at the school, who wish to remain nameless after reading the slanders that the Ministry directed at the Boy-Who-Lived last year, have named whippings and detentions with blood quills as just a couple of the gruesome punishments that occurred in Umbridge's brief reign of terror. The Minister, who reinstated her as his undersecretary immediately after her dismissal, must surely be equally called to account for her crimes against children._

Ron – who was spending most of his time in Grimmauld Place now – punched the air in jubilation, and let out a violent exclamation: "Yes!"

"I notice she still managed to mention me though." Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"It goes on like this." Hermione said in satisfaction, "Rita must have really taken you seriously Harry. It's as if she smells blood."

"As long as it's Fudge's or Umbridge's rather than mine, or some other poor innocent sod, I don't care." Harry replied savagely.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

As promised, in Occlumency, Dumbledore started to guide Harry around the place he stored his memories (which Harry quickly dubbed 'The Sanctuary'). He showed him the spell needed to create laws to govern the area – which Harry hadn't expected, as up until now, Occlumency didn't seem to be magic as such, more… mental discipline, for want of a better word.

"But doesn't it depend on the strength of the spell as to how strong the law is?" Harry had asked, curiously.

"Indeed it does. Repetition of the spell does no harm, and is likely to reinforce it, so I would ask you to settle into a routine where you perform the spell once a day, until you feel confident. Once you have decided upon the form of your 'Sanctuary' as you called it, of course. You can test their strength yourself, as you are governed by the same laws any assailant will be." Dumbledore replied.

"But what should it look like?" Harry said in frustration before adding hastily. "I know, I know, I have to choose it myself, but I don't know what I am looking for."

"In all likelihood it will take a time to show itself to you." Dumbledore said unconcernedly. "If you want my advice it should be somewhere you know well, whether a real place or imaginary, although it need not be associated with happy memories. The stronger your memory of the place, for whatever reason, the easier you will find it to assert control over it. It may be as big, or as small as you wish."

"Yes, well, it could be anything." Harry said with just the smallest irritation in his voice.

"Rushing the choice will only make it harder, you have to be happy with your choice – if you are not, then you will not be able to defend it."

Harry continued through the lesson diligently, but as it went on, something else crept in to Harry's mind. Why had Dumbledore not said anything about the trial? He had almost ruined everything, and yet Dumbledore hadn't said a word. And there was something else that had started to worry Harry. From the way Fudge had been trying to discover the Prophecy, Harry wondered how many other people did in fact know. His aunt seemed to know, and if she knew, then who else might? And what if Voldemort discovered this?

As the session came to a close, Harry found himself having to ask.

"Professor? Who knows the Prophecy, apart from me, you, and my aunt?"

Dumbledore looked at him keenly, "I have told nobody except your guardians, and Neville's and your parents, and then only to a guarded extent."

"So Mum and Dad knew?" Harry asked. "They knew that's why Voldemort was after them?"

Dumbledore nodded. "At the time it could have been Neville as well, so I had to inform Frank and Alice too. I told Sirius at the start of last year. Have you told anyone about it?"

So his parents knew, Harry thought. They knew that he had been the reason they had died. Did they blame him for being the reason Voldemort was hunting them he wondered? He mentally admonished himself for being silly – after all, his mother had died in order to save him. He suddenly realised that Dumbledore had asked him a question.

"No, not yet anyway – I haven't wanted to."

"It is your decision, Harry, as I confess it always should have been." Dumbledore said with a tinge of regret.

"But if I tell them, that will make them a target for Voldemort." Harry said desperately.

"If Voldemort were to find out they knew, perhaps, but there may be benefits that telling them would bring also. I leave it to you to decide."

Harry said nothing, but as he was leaving the room, he turned back, and said awkwardly.

"Sorry about yesterday in the trial sir." He found he could not meet Dumbledore's eye, but rather looked down at the floor in front of him.

If he had looked up, he would have seen Dumbledore's eyes sparkle happily at the apology. "It is often wise to trust your heart Harry, but perhaps not to allow it to make the decisions for you. Now, think about what we have discussed overnight, but do not allow yourself to be rushed."

The moment Harry had left the room, he found himself confronted by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"We need to talk mate." Ron said uncharacteristically seriously.

"What about?" Harry said, completely caught off guard.

"Let's go upstairs."

They marched him upstairs to the drawing room, where he sat down confused. Hermione cast a noise dimming charm on the room, and they then began, without any preamble whatsoever.

"What's going on Harry?" Ron began bluntly. "You've been trying to push us away all summer, and then you go and almost commit suicide yesterday. What's happening?"

Hermione winced, and closed her eyes in frustration at the way Ron had decided to start the proceedings. Harry however didn't notice. He glared at Ron.

"Excuse me?" He said coldly.

"Something's up Harry, something's got you, and you're getting dragged under by it. What is it, and how can we help? You won't talk about anything that's upsetting you, and it's killing you."

"Well you can start by leaving me alone, and not telling people things I ask you not to. That might help." Harry said, in a voice that remained just as icy.

"Yeah, well I tried that, and then you try to kill yourself, don't think it's working, is it?"

"Ron shut up." Hermione cut in at last with a glare. "Harry – he's just worried about you, we all are. I don't know what it is, whether it's because of Sirius, or the Prophecy, or something else, but something's wrong, and you're not getting better. Yesterday's proof of that."

"I didn't try to kill myself." Harry said, looking away.

How could he? If he had then who would defeat Voldemort? What would happen to the three people who were interrogating him now, or their families? Besides, he obviously hadn't meant to kill himself… After all, he had drawn back each time he had even thought about going through the veil. _But then, he had had the thought in the first place, hadn't he?_ Anyway, it couldn't have killed him. Voldemort was the only one that could do that wasn't he? Well, until the Prophecy is fulfilled anyway.

"That's not what Ginny said happened." Ron broke in again.

Harry looked at Ginny, who had remained silent so far, and began aggressively, "What is this? If I confide in someone then all three of you must know or something?"

"Well if you nearly walk straight through the veil, then yes." Ginny shot back, the Weasley fire fighting in her eyes, although she managed to do a better job at controlling it than Ron had done. "Could you honestly expect me not to tell your best friends that you are so upset you almost took your own life?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, okay?" Harry said in frustration. "I didn't even want to be in that room. It was the only place I had left to go, Aurors were coming from all around. I just wanted to be left alone, not to kill myself!"

"Harry," Ginny said softly, "You couldn't stop looking at the veil, you hardly stopped touching the archway, you even put your hand through it."

"I didn't," Harry protested uncomfortably, "It was just a finger."

Hermione gasped, and her hand flew up to her mouth. Harry felt even more uncomfortable.

"It was just a bit cold, that was all. I'm fine, see?" He wriggled the offending finger.

"But why did you do it?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno…" Harry mumbled, embarrassed. He tried to remember – was it before or after he had wondered if Voldemort was the only thing that could mean he died? "Curiosity I guess."

"Now do you see why we're worried Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked away again, he wondered if there was any part of the drawing room that might swallow him up, and save him from this, but it was not to be. Hermione dragged her chair closer to his.

"Is it the Prophecy?" She asked gently. "Is that it?"

The attempt to sympathise with him irritated Harry. He didn't want to be comforted. "Damn it I don't know!" He spat angrily, "It's everything I suppose!"

"You can't keep everything bottled up inside Harry, you have to let it out, just telling people helps." Hermione said earnestly.

"Well it's worked so far!" He said savagely.

"Well it obviously isn't working now Harry." Hermione replied. "You need to talk to someone."

"You didn't bottle everything up last year." Ginny told him. "You talked to Sirius."

Harry looked at her angrily. "Did you talk to people after Riddle's diary?" He asked viciously. "Did you want to talk to people then?"

Ginny looked away, visibly upset, but Harry didn't care. If they were going to gang up on him and make him feel so wretched then damn it he was going to fight back. He stood up furiously and strode to the window. He had found himself doing that a lot lately. In fact, it was a wonder he had stayed sitting down for so long. It was relaxing watching a world go by without him, and when things were constantly moving, as they were outside, it was easier not to think.

"There was no need for that Harry." Ron said angrily, "Leave Ginny out of this."

Harry thought he heard a sniff, or a stifled sob, but he was too busy trying to control his own emotions to care. Despite himself, he swung around on Ron this time.

"Yeah, well, if all three of you are going to gang up on me like this, and tell me what to do, don't expect me just to sit there and take it. Have any of you had your parents killed while trying to save you? Or your Godfather? Or had to stand and watch while someone was murdered just because he was standing next to you? Or grown up in a house where everyone around you wished you didn't exist? Or led your friends into a trap because you're too goddamned stupid to realise it, and nearly killed them because of it? Or spent the last five years with every single person in the wizarding world watching you, and either thinking you're a hero, or more usually that you are an utter nut job that wants to kill people or grab as much fame as he can? Or had an insane dark wizard killing and torturing people just because they or their relations know you? Or had this stupid bloody Prophecy made about you that makes all of this your own fault?"

Every single painful thing started to pour out of Harry's mouth before he could stop it, and he finished with an expletive, that even Hermione didn't comment on. He could feel all his anger, all his rage, and yet also all his despair and every unhappy feeling he'd ever had fighting to reach the surface. Hermione and Ron were looking completely stunned by all of this, and Ginny had tears once more freely running down her cheeks.

"No?" Harry finished, with a renewed surge of ferocity. "Well until you know how it feels, don't tell me how to deal with it!" He turned back to the window, tears welling in his own eyes now.

"But don't you see Harry?" Hermione said, in a small, mournful voice herself, "You've never been through this either. I've been reading some books –"

Harry snorted, not caring how it sounded. "Why am I not surprised?"

" – and in everything I've read, it's said that holding things in and refusing to tell anyone about them only makes things worse. You're the only one you can talk to about them, so it just keeps running through your mind making you feel worse and worse."

"Books don't have the answers for everything Hermione." Harry said grumpily, some of the anger leaving him, and leaving him feeling very tired.

"But they're written by people who have some kind of experience of the things you're dealing with, and how to solve them."

It was Ron who snorted this time, "Yeah right, like Gilderoy Lockhart's books."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but restrained herself from glaring at Ron. Ginny gave a small hiccough.

"What if I'm not ready to talk about them?" Harry asked the window softly.

"You have to try." Hermione replied. "I know it's difficult. Well… no, I don't know through experience." She said hastily, as Harry turned his head sharply. "But I can guess it must be."

"You said the Prophecy made everything your fault." Ginny said, in a voice so small that Harry could barely hear her.

"Do you want to tell us it, mate?" Ron asked gruffly.

Harry looked through the window but saw nothing. He supposed he had to tell them sooner or later – Dumbledore had even inferred he should, by not forbidding him – but telling them would just make them bigger targets. He swallowed hard.

"Don't you see? You know all the effort Voldemort went through to try and get the Prophecy, but it smashed before he could hear it. He tried to pull it out of my mind at Snape's trial. If he knows that you know it, he'll just go after you as well. He'll already be after you 'cos you're my friends anyway, but if you knew the Prophecy too… I can't tell you – I just can't." He said in mild desperation.

"That's even if I wanted to talk about any of this." He added quickly, before they had any ideas about having ground him down.

"Harry, we're already targets. I'm Muggleborn, and a Gryffindor and a Prefect, just the kind of person V- Voldemort would go after." Hermione said timidly. "Even if we wanted you to protect us, then you couldn't."

"Yeah, and I don't give a monkey's if being your friend, or knowing the Prophecy makes V- V- V- You-Know-Who want to come after me." Ron said, bravely, "There's no way I'm not going to be standing by your side whatever happens."

"He's already gone for me once as Riddle." Ginny said in a voice that was shaking so much it didn't sound like her at all. "If I can do anything at all to help you against him, I want to."

"I've put you in too much danger already." Harry said flatly.

"Yeah? How so?" Ron demanded. "We're friends with you because we want to be, not because you forced us to you know!"

"Do you really think that knowing Sirius, we wouldn't have gone to rescue him if we thought he was in danger, unless you asked us to?" Hermione asked. "Ron and I decided to go with you to try and find the Philosopher's Stone first in first year too, remember? You didn't force us to."

"And you didn't make Malfoy's dad give me Riddle's diary." Ginny contributed.

"And how exactly did you make our lives more dangerous in third or fourth year?" Ron challenged.

"The Dementors or the fake Moody wouldn't have been there if not for me." Harry replied, with almost a touch of defiance.

"No… The Dementors wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for the Ministry wrongfully arresting Sirius." Ron replied, in the air of somebody who was patiently correcting a child.

"And Barty Crouch Junior didn't actually even attempt to do anything to us." Hermione reminded him.

"And I suppose you're now going to tell me that being friends with me doesn't put you in danger either?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No, we aren't, but that isn't your fault either. It's not as if you asked for You-Know-Who to try to kill you." Ginny told him.

Harry gave a loud, exasperated sigh, facing them once more. "Supposing I did tell you what the Prophecy was, and Voldemort found out. He then tortured you until you told him the Prophecy, and killed you, or you ended up like Neville's parents. How do you think I'd feel? Or supposing you didn't go insane, but rather had to live with the fact that you'd told him, which meant that Voldemort ended up killing… killing thousands of innocent people, and no-one could stop him?"

There was silence. Harry watched the three of them exchange glances, but none of them could reply. They sat like that for several minutes until Hermione spoke up timidly.

"If the Prophecy could do that, then it's too much for anyone to bear on their own Harry, and that's without everything else you have to deal with. You have to tell someone."

"I don't _have_ to do anything." Harry shot back, but as he said it, he knew it was hollow.

After all, that was what this Prophecy meant, wasn't it? He _had_ to kill Voldemort, or be killed, and condemn the world to an eternity of hell. He _had_ to stay in Grimmauld Place, or else Voldemort would find out the Prophecy, and the world was doomed. He _had_ to not push Ron and Hermione and everyone else away, or else they would not be a strong unit to fight Voldemort, and would be defeated easily. He had lost even the illusion of control of his life.

"True, we can't force you." Hermione agreed.

"We can try and work it out though." Ron said stubbornly. "Hermione's right, if it's that big, then you can't be the only one that has to worry about it. That's what friends are for, to take some of the pressures away, right?"

"So because you're my friends, you're going to ignore the fact that I don't want people to know?"

"You'd do the same for us." Ron told him.

"It's obviously something big." Ginny said, "Or else you'd have told us."

"Yeah." Ron agreed, "And it's gotta be something that you think will scare us or something, or that we won't like, or you'd have told us, wouldn't you?"

"What do you think you'll be able to do if you know the Prophecy?" Harry said loudly. "How exactly do you think you can help? This is a Prophecy about me and Voldemort – ME. Not one of you."

"We can help you." Ginny said simply. "Whatever it is you or You-Know-Who has to do, we can help you prepare for it, or do it, or just be someone for you to talk about."

"Trust me. You can't." Harry strode to the door.

There was a crunching sound, and Harry couldn't open it. He turned around furiously. Hermione was looking both completely scared, and yet also determined. She was holding her wand. He quickly took out his own wand, and tried to open the door. Nothing happened.

"If you don't remove the locking spell," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice, "I am going to blast through the door, and you lot can get out of this house."

"Harry! Please! Just listen for a few seconds!" Hermione begged. "I know things always seem to happen to you, and you're sick and tired of it, but just imagine… imagine if it were one of us that was scaring you by refusing to talk to anyone about things that were obviously hurting us. Imagine if Ginny or I had suffered the loss of someone that we loved, and loved us. Imagine if Ron was the one that had a Prophecy about him that seemed to be causing some kind of black despondency. Imagine what you would feel if –"

"But you aren't." Harry replied through narrow slits. "I'm the one with the scar, aren't I?"

"The… scar." Hermione said slowly, her eyes opening wide. "Oh Harry, it's not… Please tell me it isn't…"

"How can I?" Harry yelled irritably. "I don't even know what you're talking about – all I'm asking you to do is open the bloody door!"

"The scar that connects you and Vol- Voldemort, the reason you were in the Arch room. You're not… Your lives aren't tied together are they? If one of you dies then the other will." She clapped a hand to her horror struck face. "That's it… isn't it? That's why you were thinking of killing yourself. If you die, then Voldemort does too. Oh Harry!"

Ron and Ginny had gone white. Ginny looked like she was going to be sick.

"I WAS NOT THINKING OF KILLING MYSELF!" Harry bellowed. "And you're wrong." He said, breathing heavily. "If I kill myself, Voldemort will not die."

"Fine." He snarled. "You want to know the Prophecy? It was Trelawny that made it. So I'm sure you'll just consider it rubbish anyway Hermione." He said nastily.

Hermione didn't say a word, neither did the other two. Harry, who had learnt the Prophecy off by heart by now, started to speak very quickly.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

"Now let. Me. Out." Harry started to count to three, but before he reached two, the door clicked, and he was able to wrench it open, and flee upstairs.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry did not come out of his room for lunch, or dinner. For the main, he had just sat there, replaying the conversation in his head, and fuming over the fact that he had lost his temper and recited the Prophecy. _Why couldn't they have left him alone? _Although it took many hours before he was willing to even think about answering this question.

Lupin had knocked on the door a couple of times; saying that Hermione had said he was ill, and asking if there was anything he could do to help. Harry barely knew the words he had said to reassure Lupin. At least he had respected the locked door. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny wouldn't have. He half wished he knew how to put up anti-apparition wards, on the off chance that the Weasley twins might appear.

It was only when he heard a massive commotion downstairs, with Mrs Black's portrait screaming, and people's voices raised, that he stirred. He almost reached for his Invisibility Cloak, but decided against it, and crept out of the door noiselessly. As he reached the first floor landing, he saw Hermione standing, stiff as a board, looking at the scene below. Harry hesitated.

"We need a healer, damnit!" Someone, maybe Kingsley, shouted below.

"We can't risk moving him any further," A woman's voice said, "get Severus, he might be able to stabilise him, so we can take him to Poppy."

"Did anyone get Arnie?"

"He was dead… dead when we got there…" A hollow voice, that sounded frighteningly familiar to Harry, replied.

But it was Mrs Weasley's shriek that caused Harry to run forward, his insides fighting to get out.

"Fred! Oh Freddy! My baby, you should never have joined. Oh Freddy!" She burst into sobs.

Harry reached the banister beside Hermione to see a sight he had been dreading. Fred was lying motionless on a stretcher, blood pooling out from a wound to his side. George was standing beside him, bloody and bruised, and looking as white as a vampire. Mrs Weasley was being restrained by Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"We have to keep him stabilised Molly. If someone even touches him slightly, it could make everything that much worse."

"Someone get Snape!" George yelled out desperately, "I'm going to get him!"

He made to walk from his twin's side, but he stumbled, and a witch Harry thought was called Emmeline Vance caught him. She conjured a chair, and placed him in it.

"I'll go." Rumbled Kingsley in his deep voice.

There was the sound of running footsteps, and Charlie Weasley appeared in the doorway. He had obviously just flooed over.

"What happened?" He asked quickly, until he caught sight of Fred lying on the stretcher. "Merlin… what happened?" He repeated urgently. He strode over to George and put his arm on his shoulder.

Harry looked away, he wanted to watch… he wanted to see if Fred would be okay… but it was just so painful. He looked across at Hermione, who had tears running down her face. She looked as bad as Harry felt.

"Oh Harry!" She cried, and put her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.


	9. The Birthday Present

**Chapter 9: The Birthday Present**

Fred Weasley was placed into a small bedroom on the first floor, where he was regularly visited by Snape, but otherwise was not permitted to see or be seen by anyone. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and George, who stayed together the next day but said virtually nothing, waited impatiently for news which never seemed to come. It was only late the second night when all bar George were struggling to stay awake, and Hermione and Ginny had already lost the fight, that Charlie came in, looking as exhausted as Lupin usually did.

"He's stable." He sighed with a smile. "Madam Pomfrey portkeyed to his room and managed to stabilise him. She says he'll be okay."

Harry said nothing, but closed his eyes in relief, and in the process almost drifted off to sleep. George, however, stood up.

"I'm going to see him." He said firmly.

Charlie held out his hand to stop him. "Madam Pomfrey won't allow anyone to see him now George, she says he needs at least another day before he's in any condition to see anyone. Get some sleep, and we'll see what we can do in the morning."

"I need to see if he's okay." George insisted.

It wasn't easy, but Charlie eventually prevailed upon both of his brothers and his sister to return to the Burrow. It had been left up to Lupin and Mr Weasley to persuade his mother – and Harry wasn't sure how they'd done it. They left however, and soon it was just Lupin, Harry, Hermione, Fred, and either Snape or Madam Pomfrey (who exactly it was staying with Fred, Harry wasn't sure) that were left in Grimmauld Place.

Harry, Remus, and Hermione said goodnight in very few words, and Harry and Hermione walked up the stairs together.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry gave the reply he knew she knew he would. "I'm fine."

It didn't fool her, but then, he didn't expect it to. Harry dreamt that night – not of a vision planted by Voldemort, but of Sirius once more.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Over the next few days, Fred seemed to be recovering. He had a large gash down his side, which travelled from just below his shoulder, all the way down to his waist, and he was having more potions a day than Harry could count. Speaking was too difficult for him, so generally a family member would just enter to keep him company, or talk to him without expecting a response. George spent most of his time there. Harry and Remus had suggested to the Weasleys that they stayed in Grimmauld Place while Fred couldn't be moved, and at least one of them spent the night every night, in order to be close to him.

The day of Hermione's supposed return to her parents came and went, with Professor Dumbledore explaining to Mr and Mrs Granger that she would be staying a little longer. She certainly did not want to leave when Fred was still so dangerously weak, and, Harry thought, blaming himself slightly, probably was scared of what she thought he might do. They were all treating him with kid gloves, and it annoyed him no end. The only positive thing about Fred's injuries from Harry's point of view was that he hadn't been interrogated further about the Prophecy. Or at least, he thought it was a positive thing.

Seven days after Fred had been pronounced fit to visit; Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron and George were all sitting with him, when Ron asked the question they had all thought about, but not dare raise before now.

"So what happened?" A hush fell around the room, and he added quickly, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

Fred gave a racking cough. "No… it's okay. Already had to tell Dumbledore, anyway. George and I were tailing someone we thought was a Death Eater, with a guy we'd persuaded to join the Order. Arnie Kravitz."

"So we followed him down Diagon Alley," George continued, "and then into Knockturn Alley. Arnie went first, as he was nearest, and we followed. We weren't together – we were on our own, just trying to blend in, you know, talking over Whispering Wires – something we invented for the Order, lets you talk to each other over long distances – so we weren't ready for the ambush."

"Someone knew we were following him." Fred croaked. "They struck Arnie down in front of me, and I yelled to George, and Kingsley, who was listening in, in case anything went wrong. I tried to get to him but…" he trailed off.

"He was duelling with two Death Eaters at the same time." George said. "He took one of them out, but then the b- the man we were following, came at him from behind with this sword or something, and he got hit by a curse at the same time. I stunned him and the other ran but it was too late."

Fred pointed to his scar. "I don't remember much after that. I just remember waking up in this room, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over me."

"Yeah, when did Madam Pomfrey become part of the Order?" Ron asked.

"She didn't… Dumbledore just gave her a portkey to travel to and fro… she doesn't know where we are at all." George explained.

"Arnie didn't make it." Fred said in a guilt laden voice. "If I hadn't started talking to him a few months ago, he'd still be alive."

"I was the one who brought up him joining the Order." George said glumly.

"Don't blame yourselves." Harry said fiercely, and to the surprise of his companions he could tell. "You didn't force Voldemort to become a tyrant, or force his Death Eaters to do any of it."

"Yeah, well, we were following them, weren't we?" George said. "Not surprising they attacked, is it?"

"And you wouldn't have followed them if it wasn't for Voldemort trying to kill everyone! It's not your fault, there's nothing you could have done. You have to accept that." Harry said pleadingly.

If Fred and George couldn't avoid blaming themselves for this, then what hope was there of him getting over the guilt that remained lodged in his heart?

"That's good advice," Ron nodded looking at Harry through almost appraising eyes, "I get the feeling that we all will have to remember it in the future. I mean… we're in this together, right?"

Hermione and Ginny nodded, and a silence fell. It was broken by a 'tap-tap' on the window. Three large, important looking owls were waiting to be allowed in.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked fearful. "Oh God! They're here… Our O.W.L. results!"

Ginny opened the window, and each of the three owls flew to one of Harry, or Hermione, or Ron.

Ron grimaced as he looked at the writing on the parchment. "Better get it over with I guess, Harry."

Ron broke the official looking seal, and Harry did the same. Hermione however, was looking at the scroll as if it might explode.

"I can't look." She muttered. "I just can't look."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on Hermione, you're the only one of us that we know for certain has done well! Well… Here goes!"

Harry and Ron unrolled the scrolls together, and began to read.

_Dear Mr Potter._

_I am pleased to include the results of your O.W.L. examinations. Each subject is listed below, with the respective O.W.L.s awarded for both the practical and written examinations._

_Astronomy:_

_Written: E  
__Practical: A_

_Care of Magical Creatures:_

_Written: E  
__Practical: O_

_Charms:_

_Written: E  
P__ractical: O_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts:_

_Written: O  
__Practical: O* (_Please see below_)_

_Divination:_

_Written: A  
__Practical: P_

_History of Magic:_

_Written: P  
__Practical: N/A_

_Potions:_

_Written: E  
__Practical: E_

_Transfiguration:_

_Written: E  
__Practical: O_

_Congratulations on your results!_

_* You have been awarded an Outstanding Recognition for your practical Defence Against the Dark Arts examination. This honour is bestowed only for exceptional achievement in the field – the Ministry of Magic would like to offer its congratulations and also its support should you wish to pursue Defence Against the Dark Arts in any future career choices._

_Paul Pytharulus,  
__Wizarding Examinations Authority,  
__Department of Magical Education,  
__Ministry of Magic._

"Go on then… what did you get?" George asked Harry with a grin.

"Oh! Er… did pretty well… looks like I'm not getting into Potions though. Just hope I can still be an Auror."

"Let's have a look then." Fred said, holding out his hand.

Harry, slightly reluctantly, gave him it. "How'd you do Ron?"

"Outstandings in Defence Against the Dark Arts!" Ron grinned. "Told you the DA was bloody brilliant. Did okay in Charms, better in Transfiguration… even did alright in Potions – an A and an E."

"Same here-" Harry started to say, but Fred had just started choking.

"An Outstanding _Recognition_? And here were we thinking you could be saved when you weren't made Prefect." He said in a tone of utter disgust.

"This is a sad day for the Weasley-Potter family." George agreed.

Hermione let out a squeal of excitement. "An Outstanding Recognition? Wow Harry, they hardly ever give those out. That's really unusual! The last person to get one of those was Alexandria Caputh twelve years ago in Charms. She's in the Department of Experimental Charms now."

"How do you…" George began.

"She read it in a book…" Ron replied.

Hermione ignored them.

"Bloody hell Harry, these results…" George trailed off as he looked down the scroll himself.

"Just because you two only got three O.W.L.s doesn't mean that it's a surprise if other people do well." Ginny said.

Fred was now looking at Ron's, and let out another sound of disgust. "You three have to realise there's more to life than exam results."

"They're not that good." Ron said, blushing slightly.

"This _is_ Fred and George we're talking about, remember." Ginny said, still needling the twins with a grin.

"Well, if they'd had Hermione's notes and revision timetables they'd have done okay too." Ron said, still red.

"Aren't you going to open yours Hermione?" Harry asked.

She looked absolutely terrified, and Ginny solved the problem by telling her: "Right, either you open it, or I'll open it for you."

Hermione tentatively slipped her finger under the seal. The eyes of the room were all upon her as her eyes scrolled down the page, getting wider the further she went. Unsurprisingly, she had aced it.

"So, Fred," Ron began when the talk of O.W.L. results had finally died away, "Are you going to be up in time for Harry's party?"

"My party?" Harry asked blankly.

"Yes, your party." Ginny said firmly.

Seeing Harry's face, which had a look of complete lack of comprehension fixed, Ron continued. "You know, the thing which you have on birthdays? Your one of which is coming up quite soon?"

"A _birthday_ party?" Harry asked, still not really understanding what they were talking about.

"Of course." Ginny said. "But don't expect us to tell you what we're planning."

"Leave it to us." Fred said, "I'll be out of here in no time, and George and I will fix you up a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes party, the likes of which you'll have never seen before."

"That wouldn't be hard." Harry told them. "I've never had one before."

The Weasleys gaped at him.

"You've never…" Ron said faintly.

"You've met the Dursleys, Ron, so have you two," Harry nodded to Fred and George, "do you really think they'd want to hold a birthday party for me?"

"Right." George said, rubbing his hands, "We've got plenty of time to make up for then."

Harry looked at them warily. "Nothing too big, please."

"But Harry…" Ron started.

Hermione came to his rescue, by glaring at the whole bunch of Weasleys. "I think Harry's had enough of being in the limelight, if he doesn't want it to be huge, then it's his party."

"Thanks." Harry mumbled, not looking at anyone.

"We'll still make it one to remember." George promised.

Harry had indeed had quite enough of the limelight, and luckily, the Prophet was doing quite a good job at deflecting attention towards him from the outside world for once. Firstly with the announcement that an inquiry into the case of Sirius Black was being planned and that the Magical Law Enforcement Department believed that he may not have been guilty after all, and secondly thanks to articles describing the shambles that the Ministry seemed to be in. Since they had run that first article on Umbridge by Rita Skeeter, a number of others had come out, with headlines like: **_Department of Law Enforcement Sets Date for Umbridge Enquiry_**; or **_The Chequered Past of the Minister's Favourite_**; or **_Hogwarts Governors Demand Compensation for Inquisitor's Reign of Terror_**.

Fudge wasn't escaping the heat either. **_What the Ministry's Fudging has Meant_**, **_Twelve Ways the Minister Helped You-Know-Who Return_**, and the rather blunt **_Fudge Must Go_** all reared their heads in the papers. The Sorcerer's Star was already running polls as to who the public wanted as the next Minister (Dumbledore was winning), and Garrow's Gambling Group was taking bets for the date of Fudge's resignation. It was just three days before Harry's birthday that movement in the Ministry was first announced however.

_**Senior Undersecretary Resigns!**_

_Late last night, controversial Senior Undersecretary to the Minister,_ _Dolores Umbridge announced her decision to resign from her position in the Ministry. Umbridge has come in for a lot of criticism recently following her spell in Hogwarts last year and the pressure seems to have become too much for her. It is rumoured that tales of her misdeeds first truly surfaced in the trial of Professor Severus Snape just a few weeks ago, and has caused both her and her long friend Minister Fudge to come under heavy criticism from the rest of the Ministry, although _the Daily Prophet_ has been unable to verify this. Umbridge and Fudge have seemingly now played their last card to revive public opinion in the Minister, by the sacrifice of the former Inquisitor of Hogwarts._

"_I deeply regret that my actions and poor advice have been blamed upon the Minister, when it has been no fault of his own." She told reporters last night, reading from a prepared statement. "My failings as an advisor must not be allowed to tarnish the Minister's reputation. As a result I feel it is only right that I resign, for the offences that have been levelled at Cornelius Fudge are mine and mine alone. I have no doubt that the current Minister is the one to see us through this current crisis with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

_While the cynical way at looking at this move suggests it is just a last gasp effort to regain support for Cornelius Fudge, even if we do allow Ms. Umbridge to take all the blame for the Ministry's ineptitude, questions must be raised as to the suitability of a Minister that can be so easily manipulated into performing such questionable deeds and ignoring as many countless warnings as has happened in the last few years. The resignation of the poison tongue in his ear gives no guarantee that another will not rise to take its place, possibly by a follower of You-Know-Who himself. After all, one of the biggest fund raisers for his campaign to become Minister in the first place, and one of the biggest financial contributors to the current government, was one Lucius Malfoy, now in Azkaban as a known Death Eater – one that Fudge had already been warned about by The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter._

_Sources in the Ministry have indicated that the forthcoming enquiry relating to Dolores Umbridge's activities will take place regardless of her resignation, and, it is believed, that either in the same enquiry, or a separate one, the Minister himself will be required to face the music. If found guilty of any misconduct, the Minister may find himself forced to step down, even if he refuses to resign himself. For further details about some of the crimes Fudge may have to answer to, turn to page 3._

Harry couldn't repress a smile when Hermione showed him this article, nor indeed, when he saw the tone of the rest of the paper. There was something immensely satisfying about it all. Ron, Ginny, and the Weasley twins shared in his delight. Hermione, however, was strangely negative about the whole thing.

"I just hate to think what might happen if a Death Eater or someone Voldemort controls becomes Minister." She said, looking worried.

"Well, Fudge did as much to help him last year as any Voldemort sympathiser could have done." Harry told her.

"You know that's not true Harry." Hermione said with a bit lip, and the same worried expression, "Fudge may have made it easy for him to regain strength, but if an actual supporter of Voldemort became Minister, they could make it easy for Voldemort to find the strongest people that opposed him. He could look like he was fighting against the Death Eaters, when he was actually helping them the whole time."

"Dumbledore won't let that happen." Fred said confidently. He was now up and about, although he wasn't as exuberant as he usually was. "You can bet he'll have the whole of the Order making checks on any of the runners for Minister."

Hermione's expression didn't change. "There's only so much that Dumbledore can do. He has enough to do anyway; he has ever since Voldemort came back."

"Well, Fudge isn't gone yet." Ron told her.

"Not yet, but he will be, just read the papers… Everyone wants him out."

"Don't blame me." Harry said slightly defensively, "Fudge was always going, after the world knew Voldemort had come back, I just sped it along slightly."

"Blame you?" George asked.

"He set Rita Skeeter on them." Ron sniggered.

Fred and George's eyebrows raised, and they grinned. "There's hope for you yet young Harry!" They chorused.

"Right." George said. "Sorry to leave you, but we've got work to do."

"What kind?" Harry asked, interested to know if it was Order work, or Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.

"Just a couple of inventions we have in the works. Only a couple of days left you know Harry!" Fred winked.

They disapparated before Harry could reply.

"Why am I filled with a sense of dread?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Because you have at least half a brain." Ron grinned.

"Don't worry, we'll keep them under control." Ginny promised him.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione began. "We shouldn't have put you on the spot like we did about the Prophecy."

"Yeah. Me too mate." Ron chimed in. "We were just worried, you know?"

"Yeah, well, it's done now, isn't it?" Harry said. "You know the Prophecy. Either I kill Voldemort, or he kills me. And if I don't kill him, no-one else can, so no pressure."

"We'll help." Ginny told him.

"Thanks, but there's not much you can do." Harry told her. "I told you, it's me or him, no-one else involved."

"Well, we can help you by trying to find ways to weaken Voldemort. Some of the books in that little library we found are ancient, maybe there'll be some old magic in there that could help." Hermione told him. "Something that no-one has thought of using, because it's all been forgotten about."

"Or we could help you practice duelling." Ron told him, as if months of trawling through musty tomes didn't appeal to him for some reason. "Or…" He looked terrified as he continued, "Or… Well, the Prophecy says you have to kill him, but it doesn't say you can't have help when fighting him, does it? We'll be there every step of the way with you, I promise."

"And we'll always be here for you," Ginny continued, "if ever you need to talk, or play Quidditch or something to relax or whatever, we'll always be here."

"I don't want to put you in danger." Harry said, but half-heartedly, for in truth, despite everything he had been thinking this summer, he was touched that they still wanted anything to do with him after hearing his future.

"And we don't want you to be in danger either." Ron told him. "So we're going to do our best to make that danger as little as possible."

Harry sighed, but said nothing for a few seconds. When he did open his mouth, Hermione beat him to it.

"Look, Harry, I know you don't want to talk about Sirius," Hermione began, and she pressed on before Harry could say anything, "and I promise I won't keep asking you to talk about him. I'm sorry, I'm… I'm just worried about you. Just promise me that if you feel like saying something that you'll talk to someone, okay? I'll try not to go on about it, I promise."

Harry swallowed. He was quite wrong footed by everything. He had been ready for another barrage of questions and orders, but not this. Hermione's apology meant a lot to him too. If there was one thing that Hermione and Ron (_and maybe he himself_, a little voice said) had in common, it was that they didn't like to admit they might be wrong. That was one of the reasons they bickered so much.

"Thanks." He said gruffly, "And I promise."

He meant it too.

"Voldemort knows the Prophecy exists." Hermione began, changing the subject back once more. "But does he know anything else about it?"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well, I was just thinking…" Hermione said, as if she was still mulling over whatever idea it was herself.

"And?" Ron prompted.

"Well, one of the reasons you said you didn't want us to know the Prophecy, Harry, was in case V- Voldemort tried to pull it out of our minds, like he's been trying to do with you." Harry noticed that although she had been saying Voldemort's name for three quarters of a year, she still stumbled over the word occasionally. "Well, what if we get a Legilimens like Dumbledore or Professor Snape to put a false Prophecy in our heads? Say one that predicts his downfall if he tries to kill you, or something?"

"Well, that's assuming he doesn't see this conversation." Harry said, dubiously. "I dunno, I'd have thought if it would work, Dumbledore would have done something similar with me."

"It was just a thought." Hermione shrugged.

"He knows the first half of it." Harry told them. "Dumbledore told me that one of his Death Eaters heard the bit about me being born, with power to oppose the Dark Lord, but they caught him and made him flee before he heard any more, so he doesn't know that he marked me as his equal, or that only I can kill him." He wondered whether he ought to tell them that it could have been Neville rather than him, but decided against it. It seemed kind of unfair, given that Neville didn't know himself.

"It's an idea." Ron said, nodding.

"Well I'd much rather you weren't captured or had him inside your heads." Harry told them.

"So would I, mate." Ron said, with a quick grin, "But if it did happen, you know, at least we might stop You-Know-Who knowing what the Prophecy was."

Harry felt his temper rising, and he struggled to control it. His emotions were always so close to the surface and it took little to set it off.

"It's easy to sit here making clever little plans, but don't you realise how much can go wrong? You can say that you wouldn't tell him anything now, but you have no idea how much the Cruciatus Curse hurts, you just want it to be over, and you'd do almost anything to stop it. Then there's the Imperius Curse, and any one of hundreds of curses Voldemort uses to get what he wants, and his snake and its venom. You have no idea what it's like. If you're going to plot and plan, you should be working out ways to stop that happening, not things in case it happens."

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stayed silent. Somehow the silence said more about how seriously they were taking it to Harry, than any protestation they could have made.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry… It's just… I've seen too much death already. I've been a part of too much death."

Things were looking up however; Harry felt when he went to bed the night before his birthday. Fudge was getting slaughtered by the Prophet, Umbridge had resigned, Sirius might finally be known as the man he was, innocent, and a fighter versus Voldemort. And despite everything, Harry was starting to feel better about having told his friends about the Prophecy. He didn't think they fully understood it yet, that they knew what was going to happen, but didn't appreciate what it actually meant, but the knowledge that his friends were there for him just made Harry feel a little more positive about everything. Another big plus point was the fact that he hadn't taken any of the Dreamless Sleep potion for a whole week.

And Harry had to admit, that he was looking forward to his first ever birthday party.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

There was screaming, a man's voice. Harry looked around frantically. He was in a richly furnished room, with luxurious drapes and curtains adding to the embroidery which decorated the rest of the room. Portraits of moving pictures signalled this to be a wizard's house, and judging by their robes, and the cruel set of their eyes, it looked to be a dark wizard's home. A golden snake slithered along the wall in a circle, and Harry had to look twice before he realised that it was in actual fact gold, and not alive. He took this all in in just a few seconds, but promptly pushed it to the back of his mind, for he had spied the maker of the screams, and his torturer.

A tall thin man with piercing red eyes, long jet black hair, and dark green robes was lounging in a chair, wand pointing at his victim. It looked spookily like Voldemort, except he looked more humanlike, both in body and expressions. He had a definite nose, rather than the slits that belonged to Voldemort, and similar subtle changes were repeated all over his face. In his whole figure there was almost a vibrancy about his appearance that didn't exist when Harry had seen Voldemort in his new body – the Voldemort Harry knew was dangerous in his systematic approach that at times seemed almost emotionless.

The victim to this Voldemort-like man had his neck held by a noose suspended from the ceiling, his arms and legs unbound and dangling uselessly by his side. His right lower arm was hanging at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body, as if it had been badly broken in more than one place. Likewise, his bloody, bruised, battered body was perched on two legs which looked like they could hardly support his weight. The man was half naked, and burn marks could be seen all over his torso. Vomit and blood surrounded the body, and his whole appearance made Harry feel ill himself.

Harry looked away from the scene, and the ability to control his own movements made him look down at his own body – for it was his own body. Was this a dream? When Voldemort attacked him through Legilimency he had always been in Voldemort's body, or where Voldemort's thoughts had been, in the last year. What was happening? Who was this man that looked so much like Voldemort? Who was the man being tortured?

There were renewed screams from the dangling man. More scorching burns appeared on his chest.

"Who are you?" Harry yelled. "Why are you doing this?"

His voice echoed around the room strangely. Neither of the two men showed a sign of having heard him. It reminded him of when he had been in Dumbledore's pensieve, or Riddle's diary.

"Reducto." The torturer grinned.

The curse hit the man on the right knee cap. It cracked backwards as the skin and bones ripped making the man scream as the blood poured out. The scream was cut off as the noose strangled both the man, and his cry. He fought to gain air by putting his left foot on the ground to support his weight, but to do this he had to try and place weight on his useless right leg.

This man was sick, Harry thought, as sick as Voldemort. It was just another of his similarities to Tom Riddle. Harry looked away again. Instinctively he knew he had no way of interfering in or controlling this dream world. The torturer was laughing, a cold, high laugh. A knock at the door interrupted him.

"Enter." He said coldly, flicking his wand hand towards the door so that he could curse anyone that came in.

A man behind a Death Eater's mask opened the door. He was short and slightly plump, and looked around fearfully, before dropping to his knees and averting his head.

"Wormtail. My patience has its limits. I trust you bring me good news for if you don't, then…" The menace in his words didn't require him to finish the sentence, especially with the thing dangling from the noose that barely looked like a body anymore.

Wormtail? Why was Pettigrew here? But this man wasn't Pettigrew. He was too slim for one thing, and his body looked almost youthful. And then it hit Harry. The man that looked so like Voldemort _was_ Voldemort. A _younger_ Voldemort. One who still had his original body. This had to be a memory. Voldemort was showing Harry one of his own memories. Harry tried to wake up, whatever Voldemort wanted to show him, he didn't want to see. He pinched himself. It hurt.

"I do my Lord. They have made me their Secret Keeper. I can give you the Potters." Wormtail said hesitatingly, almost wincing as he did.

Harry couldn't breathe – his mind was numb. His parents! Voldemort was showing him how his parents died. There was no way Harry wanted to see that. He struggled to extricate himself from this nightmare, but how he was to achieve that he didn't know. How could thinking about his parents help in this situation? Voldemort obviously would have accounted for that seeing as he was showing him their deaths.

Voldemort let out his shrill cold laugh. "They made _you_ their secret keeper? They must not be as clever as I had allowed them to be. Did those emotional fools really believe you would be brave enough to protect them despite all of my methods of persuasion?"

"They did Master, th- they live in Godrics Hollow." Wormtail confirmed nervously.

"Excellent. We leave now."

Voldemort rose from the chair energetically, and walked to the door. Harry stayed put – he did not want to go wherever Voldemort went. He paused as he reached the doorway, looking back to the wretch that was barely alive. Giving a wicked grin, he pointed his wand at the man.

"Tarantellegra!"

As Voldemort left the room, Harry tried desperately to dig in his heels and not go with Voldemort. He closed his eyes so as not to see the man in agony, but couldn't close his ears to the screams. The next thing he knew, the screaming had stopped, and when he opened his eyes he saw he was in a corridor. Voldemort walked straight through him towards a set of stairs. Harry watched him go, with the sinking feeling that he would be dragged wherever Voldemort went whatever he tried. Wormtail followed a respectful distance behind his master.

Next, Harry found himself in a different hallway, whereupon Voldemort walked through him once again. When he had at last left the house Voldemort disapparated, and the three of them appeared in a dark street in a country village. He stood boldly in the middle of the Muggle road. There were no lights; neither streetlamps, nor cars illuminated the dark night. The only aids to sight were the glimmers that came through curtains in the large houses along the road.

"So, Wormtail, where exactly are they then?"

"The Potters live here Master. In the house called Chaser's Rest." He pointed to the house right in front of them.

Voldemort let out a sound that seemed halfway between a sigh and a hiss as he saw his target. Harry half-wondered why he had been able to see the house before Wormtail had told them where it was. Of course, he was inside the house even now in this memory. After all, he was the reason Voldemort had come to kill his parents. He must've known the secret when he was just a little child.

Voldemort started muttering words under his breath, casting a complex spell of some kind. Harry looked around, taking in the street that had once been his home for minutes, while Voldemort performed his incantation, apparating to different spots around the house. Harry could tell he was trapping them inside somehow. As he finished, a bright flash of light illuminated the sky above Harry's parents' house, creating a kind of dome and then fading away until it was black again. Curtains were drawn back in the house, and a man's face was silhouetted in a window. Even from this distance, Harry knew it was his father. Horror was on his face, and Harry could see him mouthing words. He disappeared from the window.

Voldemort laughed. "They know I am here. Good."

"Are… are you not going to cast anti-apparition wards my Lord?" Wormtail asked in a petrified voice.

"Are you questioning me Wormtail?" Voldemort asked sharply.

He held his wand at Pettigrew, extending the forthcoming Cruciatus curse for at least half a minute. Pettigrew was screaming loudly, but none of the Muggle houses seemed to hear anything. Voldemort seemed completely unworried by the time he was giving the Potters.

"The Potters may not escape without leaving their child. Their Floo is cut off, and they will find Portkeys shall not work. As for leaving on foot…" He paused, and a strangled cry came up from behind the house.

"James! He's set up an age line! I can't get Harry through!"

"Take Harry on my broom – take him and fly over it! I'll try to hold him off."

Voldemort let out a wicked sigh. "Such nobility. I believe that is what it means to be a true Gryffindor Wormtail, loyalty to your friends and family above all, selfless sacrifice to save your dear ones' skins. But that kind of foolish bravery can be broken, as I have broken many before them, isn't that right? I wonder if I can break their spirit and watch them flee to save their own worthless lives without the child?"

"But Master, if they leave, then they will know I am the one that betrayed them, I will not be able to be your spy!"

Voldemort laughed, "Still concerned about your own hide, Wormtail? Fear not, for Lord Voldemort has far more useful spies than you in his ranks. You shall not enter the house, Wormtail. Wait here for my return."

Voldemort strolled up the pebbledash driveway, past a pretty garden with a variety of flowers, until he reached a Muggle car. Harry, knowing it was impossible to avoid continuing in the memory, followed. He looked at the car with an expression of violent distaste.

"Call yourself a witch and wizard?" He muttered in disgust. "Real witches and wizards have nothing to do with filthy Muggles. Incendio!"

The car exploded in a violent storm of fire. The murderer continued past it without a second glance. With a wave of his hand, the front door burst inwards, crashing against the wall behind. Voldemort stepped through the opening. Harry followed unwillingly.

Voldemort sniffed the air, as if trying to scent the Potters' smell. "Now… where will he be?" He asked in a loud mocking voice.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off - the two of you must survive!" James Potter's voice sounded from behind a door.

Voldemort strode forward laughing, the door bursting open as he did. Revealed was Harry's father, wand drawn, slightly hunched, worry, but not fear etched on his face. Voldemort still had not withdrawn his wand.

"Voldemort." He uttered, in a one word greeting.

"How brave." Voldemort replied, baring his teeth in a smile. "Not only do you say my name, but you try to fight the most powerful wizard in the world in order to save your family. Touching, I must say. Of course, there is another word for this. Stupidity. I will give you this one chance to flee – it is your child I want, as I am sure the Muggle loving fool has told you."

James did not reply, but rather sent a rush of flame at Voldemort. Voldemort simply held out his hand, and the flame went either side of a large shield that was surrounding him.

"Very well. I am not usually so generous as to offer people chance at life. It is as well that you refused it."

"We've already escaped you three times Riddle, we'll do it again." James yelled, avoiding the curse that Voldemort had sent his way.

Harry didn't want to watch. He knew what would happen, but he found himself unable to avoid looking at his father's eyes. He could almost see his mind working hard to find ways to slow Voldemort down, and maybe help Lily escape with Harry. Although Harry knew that it was a fight doomed to failure, he couldn't look away. James had just deflected two curses, and dodged another, and he banished a couch straight at Voldemort. It burst into smithereens but he had found cover.

Harry moved around to get a better view of his father. He was transfiguring some wreckage into ferocious dogs, which left the cover, and flung themselves at Voldemort, snarling, while James continued his transfiguration behind a sturdy bookshelf that was lying on its side across the room. Voldemort, although first taken by surprise, had an amused look on his face, and fought off the animals with ease.

"Come now Potter is that all you can do? I expected better. Wormtail wanted me to recruit you into my Death Eaters rather than kill you, you know. Oh yes! The little rat told me where you were all right. He has been working for me for quite some time now. See how the weak betray your compassion? Far better to keep them in their proper place, serving the strong! Just think – you can flee now, and warn your precious friends of his treachery, or you can stay and die while failing to protect your family. What should you do?" Voldemort laughed.

Harry's father made no reply. Harry could see beads of sweat dripping from his face, and he looked to see what was being transfigured. It was a Muggle gun. James leapt out from behind his shelter, and with his wand in his left hand, and the gun in his right, he pointed them both at Voldemort, pulling the trigger, and yelling, "Acidus!"

A golden shield surrounded Voldemort, and the spell glanced off. The bullet from the gun, however, was too quick for the shield, and lodged in Voldemort's chest. Voldemort doubled up in pain for a split second, and James rushed forward, shouting the forbidden curse as he did. "Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort vanished, and reappeared to his side, the curse destroying part of the wall behind where he had been standing. His wand was out, and it pointed at the bullet wound. The bullet spat out of his torso, and the wound knitted itself together. Voldemort's face was flushed with the heat of battle, and he sounded almost elated when he said:

"So the pure and righteous auror knows how to play? It was an ingenious idea even if it was not good enough against a wizard that cannot be defeated. Perhaps you would have made a good Death Eater." He mused.

"Never." Harry's father spat, casting another vicious curse.

"It was not an offer. I don't recruit people who are about to die." Voldemort's smile was back, and he flung curses at James one after another.

Each curse made a loud clanging sound as it was blocked, and seemingly threatened to throw James backwards off his feet by the whole power of them. He may have been able to keep Voldemort at bay for a while when Voldemort had no wand, but the Voldemort firing curses at his full strength was another matter. He was forced down onto one knee when Voldemort sent a killing curse at him. Diving to his side, his wand flew out of his hand, and Voldemort approached his helpless prey. Tears were welling in Harry's eyes, and he was finding it difficult to breathe, but he couldn't look away.

James Potter squeezed the trigger of the gun once again, but Voldemort's shield this time stopped it in his tracks.

"And now, you die." Voldmort said softly. "Goodbye, Mr Potter. Avada Kedavra."

James Potter, husband to Lily, father to Harry Potter – his one year old son, who was now watching nearly fifteen years on – fought no more. His lifeless body stared up at Voldemort with unseeing eyes. His killer immediately changed his attention to the search for Lily Potter, and the boy the Prophecy had warned him about, as if he had done nothing more than drink a glass of water. By contrast, Harry crouched down on the ground, unable to take in what he had just seen. He had just watched his father die. Harry found himself dragged through the house in Voldemort's search, but he took nothing else in. He could picture his father's dead body in his eyes now, and it wouldn't leave his vision. It was only the words Voldemort said next that jerked him away.

"Mrs Potter. Ah… and young Harry. The last two Potters. You may leave Mudblood, it is only your child that must die – I shall allow you to survive."

There was a sudden flash of light, and Voldemort had an almost impressed tone when he continued. "So… You managed to break my charms did you? You're still too late."

"No!" A woman's – Harry's mother's – voice screamed desperately.

Harry looked up, and stared into his mother's face. She ran from the window at which she had been standing to a spot between Voldemort and a cot which housed the young Harry. He had never seen her so vividly in his dreams, or the photos that he had of her. She was beautiful; there was no other word for it. Her youthful beauty shone through even the darkness of Voldemort's presence. There were tears in her green eyes, which looked identical to Harry's own. Her red hair seemed to be ablaze as she took a protective stance over her child.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything! Anything! He's just a baby. Let him live!"

"Stand aside – Stand aside girl, and you may still live!"

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Lily pled.

Voldemort sent a curse at her, but it hit a barrier in front of Lily and disappeared. Voldemort gave another laugh.

"Cute trick, but it won't save you from the Unforgivables. Stand aside, you silly girl – stand aside, now – you may leave and live."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – not Harry! Please, have mercy! Have mercy!"

Harry knew what was going to happen, and placed himself between the two of them, wanting to stop this horrible scene. He was crying openly now, but he didn't notice.

"Why Mum?" He whispered. "Why couldn't you and Dad have left me?"

"Crucio!" Voldemort said coldly.

Lily Potter screamed, a sound that contrasted violently with Voldemort's amusement, as he continued to laugh. He lifted the curse, and told her once again:

"Stand aside you silly girl! You may still disapparate and survive."

"Not Harry." She gasped. "You can't kill Harry. Kill me! Kill me instead!"

"Very well, I gave you your chance. Avada Kedavra!"

"NOOOO!" Harry yelled, and he watched, as though in slow motion, as the green light of the killing curse sped through his chest, and pierced whatever charm Lily had put in place to protect both her and Harry.

He watched, as the life was extinguished from the emerald green eyes of his mother, and the body that had looked so full of energy and spirit crumpled to the floor. Dead. Voldemort continued to laugh as he approached the baby Harry in the crib. Harry watched him cross the floor, sobbing.

"And now, Harry Potter, the one who would oppose me, now that I have killed the people closest and dearest to you, now I shall kill you."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry's eyes shot open. Circling his bed were Ron, Ginny, Fred, and Hermione. There were some balloons with writing, and confetti floating in the air, in fact, his whole bedroom was decorated in bright, gay colours, and party banners.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Thank God, you're awake."

Harry tried to speak but couldn't. He closed his eyes and lay there. Lupin's voice came from the hall.

"What's happened?"

"We don't know, we came in to surprise him, but he won't wake up. Nothing we do works." George answered him.

"He's awake!" Ron yelled out to them.

"Give him room, you're crowding him." Lupin said calmly, as he saw the people around the bed.

Obediently, the four surrounding him took a step or two backwards. Lupin's face came into vision as Harry blinked open his eyes, concern etched on his features.

"Voldemort?" He asked Harry swiftly.

Harry nodded, still unable to speak.

"Are you alright? What did he show you?"

"He – He – Halloween –" Harry had found his voice, but it was constricted. "He – My parents – He –"

Harry's whole body convulsed as he fought to contain his feelings. Lupin's face had gone white as he understood, and his usually calm face was gripped by something that looked almost like fury.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a voice that belied his facial expressions.

"Just… Give me time to myself." Harry choked.

Lupin didn't argue, but turned on his heel. Harry distinctly heard him say under his breath, "I'm going to kill him, damn what Dumbledore says, I'm going to kill him."

Harry knew that it was the look that had gripped his face that caused Hermione to run out of the room after him.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

"I need to be on my own." Harry repeated.

Immediately the door to his room closed, Harry sat up on the edge of his bed and looked around. A large bright banner was proclaiming 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY' above the door. Without thinking, he jumped up, grabbing the sign in his clenched fist, and tearing it to the ground. A ragged sob tore its way out of his throat. As his room started to be unsystematically destroyed, the faces of his father, his mother, and Sirius all flashed before him.

"Why?" He yelled savagely, again and again and again.

Harry's emotions finally wore themselves out, leaving him feeling tired and yet still distraught. And it was in this state that one more face intruded into his view. Remus Lupin's furious white face, saying, 'I'm going to kill him.' He couldn't kill him. Harry was the only one that could, but Remus wasn't to know that. There would only be one outcome if Remus tried to fight Voldemort.

The celebratory banners, balloons and other party trinkets that the Weasleys had arranged were strewn in disarray throughout the room. Many of Harry's own possessions joined them on the floor. Harry didn't care, what import did his birthday have compared to the lives of his parents and their best friends? Although so often before Harry had found the album of photos of his parents a source of solace, just looking at the photos compounded everything in Harry's mind.

There was a soft knock on the door. Lupin's voice came through the wood. "Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry swallowed. "C'm'in."

It was the old Remus that entered the room, rather than the one that had been seized by anger earlier. He put down a bowl he had been carrying as he entered, and walked over to the bed, where Harry was now sitting. He sat down beside him, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"That should have been my life:" Harry said hoarsely, "my parents, Sirius, you. I should have grown up with you all. Mum and Dad should have been alive, Sirius should have been free. Voldemort took everyone away from me."

"It's not right Harry, no-one should have to put up with what you have, but you still have people here for you. I'm still here for you, Dumbledore, Hermione, the Weasleys, Tonks – we're all here for you."

"Voldemort kills the people who get close to me." Harry said in the same voice, "He even said so after he killed – killed my parents. He said that after he'd killed everyone close to me he'd kill me. I couldn't take it if you…" He trailed off.

They met each others eyes. It suddenly struck Harry how much pain there was behind Lupin's.

Lupin offered Harry a comforting smile. "I'll always be here for you, I promise."

"I heard what you said this morning when you left the room." Harry told him throatily.

He was quiet for awhile, before he replied, "Hermione told me you'd heard. I'm sorry Harry, I shouldn't have said that. I was emotional, and wasn't thinking. Voldemort's taken everyone away from you – he's taken everyone away from me – and I was angry, upset. I promise you I won't do anything stupid."

Harry didn't say anything. He stared at a spot on the wall, but didn't really see anything. His parents' dead bodies floated before his eyes again. "I can't lose you too." He told him in a low tone.

Lupin responded by giving Harry a kind of half hug. "You won't if I have anything to say about it. I won't take any risks I don't have to."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Harry found the silent companionship rather comforting. He offered Remus a slight smile, and looked unseeingly around the room. He had seemed sincere about not taking any risks, but Harry could remember the contours of his face precisely when he had realised what Harry had seen last night. He also vividly remembered what Ginny had said about Remus, and how she thought he was acting like he had no reason to live. And if Lupin died, then…

"He gave them the chance to flee and leave me." Harry said at last. "He kept saying that they could apparate out, and leave me to die, and then they could survive. But they wouldn't go. Dad… he fought… he… he…" Harry couldn't go on, his chest shuddered as his body remembered the tears that had come before.

"And you think that it's because of you that they died." Lupin said softly, although it wasn't a question. "Harry, Lily and James… Did you know that they had escaped Voldemort before then?"

Harry nodded.

"The last time they met Voldemort before… before that night, they stayed behind to slow Voldemort down so that people they had never met could escape. They would never leave anyone behind. James would even have stayed behind for Snape." He gave a quiet chuckle and then was serious again. "Never, ever, think for a second that it is your fault that they died. You did nothing wrong, _you_ have nothing to berate yourself for."

He was visibly upset, and seemed to be biting the inside of his mouth, his eyes looked moist, and suddenly Harry sensed that there was something that Remus was holding inside which meant he had blame to deal with as well.

"Remus…" Harry began, not knowing what to say.

"Did you ever wonder why Sirius thought I was the spy Harry? Why Sirius thought that I was the one that was feeding Voldemort information about Lily and James' movements?"

Harry didn't answer – he could tell he wasn't required to.

"In the months before that, Voldemort had let it be known that he would give werewolves more rights, as long as they were wizard born. My ancestors have been witches or wizards for the last couple of centuries, which meant I would have had more rights under Voldemort's scheme. That was when people really started to distrust werewolves. Think Umbridge and you'll have some idea."

"But Sirius wouldn't-" But Lupin cut Harry off.

"Sirius, Peter, and I had tried to cast protective charms for Lily and James before they used the Fidelius. One of them nearly killed Lily, the Barohan Charm. Have you heard of it?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not surprised, hardly anyone would have. The targets of the spell lend some of their life-force to a witch or wizard that they choose, so that the target can tell if they're in danger or not. It would give us a warning if you were under attack. Sirius was paired with you, Peter with James, and I was paired with Lily. Only it didn't work." He said heavily. "It was really old magic, and no-one knew that much about it to be honest, not even Dumbledore. Lily had found out about it, and suggested we tried it."

"Mum found it?" Harry asked, causing Lupin to give a small smile, but it didn't extend to his eyes.

"Yeah, Lily was amazing with her charms. But we soon found out that this one wasn't meant to work with werewolves. Halfway through the charm, Lily fainted. We stopped, revived her, and she seemed to be okay. She wanted to try again, so the next time, even though she again fell unconscious, we continued with the charm. We knew there was something wrong immediately. When she came round she foamed at the mouth, writhed in agony screaming, her eyes had rolled back, and immediately she woke, my whole body was racked with pain too. James, Sirius, and Pe-" He took a deep breath, "James and Sirius barely managed to reverse the charm in time."

"But that wasn't your fault, you didn't ask to be a werewolf. You didn't know it would happen. Sirius and my parents wouldn't have blamed you surely?" Harry interrupted.

Lupin exhaled, and shook his head. "I blamed myself. We left that spell alone after that, but I spent more and more time on my own. I couldn't face Lily again, I'd nearly killed her. I'd make excuses not to spend time with them, and saw practically no-one for weeks. And when Lily turned up and made me listen to her, persuading me to spend time with them again, and the next protective spells we tried failed for no apparent reason…"

Harry wanted to grab Lupin and shake him, to shake some sense into his head. How could anything be his fault? So he'd been scared by what had happened, so what, anyone would have been! He hadn't meant it to happen, had he? That didn't mean he was a spy. That didn't mean he had caused Voldemort to attack, or made Wormtail betray them. He stared at Lupin. His eyes were red, with large black shadows below them. His face was thin and pale, and Harry noticed that his mouth had the look of someone who hadn't smiled for a long time, maybe even one that had almost forgotten how to smile properly – the corners seemed to be fixed on a downwards curve. With a jab of understanding, he wondered if this was how he himself looked to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.

Lupin sighed. "I couldn't blame Sirius for suspecting me. It was Wormtail who sabotaged the charms of course, but we had no way of knowing that. I always assumed it was my fault because I was a werewolf again. Lily and James refused to point the blame at anyone, but Sirius suspected me, or at least that's what he told me these last few years. He persuaded Lily and James not to tell me about the change in secret keeper and hid himself, ready for when Voldemort was told that he could tell him where they were. Everything pointed at me, and I had the chances to disprove it. I didn't, and because of that Lily and James were betrayed.

"But _you_ shouldn't blame yourself for something you couldn't control. I'm sorry Harry. I ruined your life. That life you say Voldemort took away from you, that was my fault." He finished bitterly.

Harry swallowed. He had had no idea, and had no idea what to say.

"Moony," He began hesitantly, "you weren't to know that someone that you trusted would be a spy."

Remus shook his head, "Even if I hadn't worked out Wormtail was the turncoat, I'd have known Sirius was innocent, he wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban, and you wouldn't have been mistreated by the Dursleys."

"I _had_ to go to the Dursleys… The blood magic, you know." Harry told him.

"Can you imagine Sirius letting them hurt you? He'd have been with you most of the day, making sure you were alright, teaching you about our world. Your whole life would have been different."

"How do you know?" Harry challenged him, "How do you know they would have trusted your word about Sirius?"

Remus shook his head yet again, "Even so, I shouldn't have left you like I did. If I was the only Marauder left, I should have looked after James and Lily's child, but did I? No, I hid myself away, ashamed to even see you after what I'd done to your life. And so I would be today if Albus hadn't offered me a job in third year. No Harry, you have nothing to torture yourself about, you, Sirius, James, Lily, you're the victims of my stupidity."

Harry suddenly knew exactly how Lupin was feeling. It was the same way he'd been feeling all summer. But how could he make Lupin see that it wasn't his fault?

"It's Wormtail's fault, not yours, he was the one that betrayed them – us – isn't he? He betrayed my parents, which meant that Sirius was sent to Azkaban, which meant I went to the Dursleys. You thought Wormtail was a friend, didn't you? Why should you think a friend would betray you to Voldemort? It isn't your fault."

Remus sighed, "Well it certainly isn't yours, anyway, alright? Tell me that, please?"

"Only if you say it isn't yours either." Harry replied stubbornly, and the ghost of a smile finally forced its way onto Remus' face.

"Deal, I'll try not to blame myself, if you try to do the same."

"Deal." But Harry knew it wouldn't be as easy as that, for either of them.

"What did you bring in with you?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, that," And Lupin looked tense once more, "it- it's nothing Harry, forget about it."

"Go on, what is it?" Harry asked, his curiosity peaked.

"No, forget it, I should be– I shouldn't have– I don't know what I was thinking."

"Tell me." Harry demanded.

Lupin looked troubled. "I don't know why I– I feel awful for asking this Harry but… I need to see it for myself. I need to see what I – what _Peter_ did. I need to know. That was Dumbledore's pensieve I brought."

Harry felt sick. "You're not s–" He inhaled deeply. "What would I have to do?" He asked warily, although he had been fully intending to refuse. When it came to it, Lupin hadn't wanted to tell him what he had been intending.

"You stick your wand to your temple, concentrate on the memory you want to include, and say 'Memorium', then you just put the tip of your wand in the pensieve." Lupin said nervously. "It's not like Patronuses, you need not think about what happens in it, just think of the memory, and say the word. I'm sorry, I just… I need to see."

Remus left the room hurriedly for some privacy, and when Harry next saw him, he was very pale indeed, although there was a determined expression on his face. The others treated Harry very carefully, and there were few mentions of his birthday. They did their best to cheer Harry up without looking insensitive, and Fred and George managed to include a few of their inventions (like the Ballooning Bandages, which caused whichever appendices they were wrapped around to expand a little like Harry's Aunt Marge had done). Mrs Weasley looked rather tearful herself, and insisted on looking after Harry, and hugging him whenever she had the chance. Harry was touched by the sentiment, but found it reminded him painfully of the fact that he had never really known his parents.

Dinner was a large affair, but it certainly wasn't a party atmosphere. The entire Weasley clan was present, as were Tonks, a couple of other Order members like Mad-Eye and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and, of course, Remus. Conversation was arranged so as not to refer to the reason they were all together, and Harry had refused to open any presents today, either when his friends had offered them earlier or when Mrs Weasley suggested it before dinner. In fact, the only sign that it was his birthday at all was the cake, which was finely embroidered with Quidditch hoops, and broomsticks and players that hovered above the surface. Harry made the initial cut on Mrs Weasley's masterpiece, and they shared the cake around, but Harry found he could barely taste it.

As everybody rose to leave the table, there was a sharp beeping sound. Kingsley fumbled to the wand in his pocket, said a few words, and a strip of paper emerged from the tip of his wand. He swore loudly, earning a rebuke from Mrs Weasley.

"Sorry Molly." He rumbled in apology. "He's attacking Azkaban." He told the listening people.

Suddenly, everyone was alert. Fred, who had still been sitting down, jumped up, withdrawing his wand.

"You're not going." Mrs Weasley told him sharply.

"Oh yeah?" Fred said mutinously. "You need all the Order members you can there."

"I forbid it. You're not recovered. And you're not going either George – we need Order members here to keep in contact with Dumbledore and everyone else." She told him fiercely.

"Your mother's right." Moody growled over Fred and George's protests. "Besides, we need people here to guard Potter and the others. He may know our location, and this could be a feint."

Fred and George glared at them.

"I need you two to contact Dumbledore and tell him what's happening, understood?" He barked, and when they didn't answer immediately, he continued, "Or are you rethinking your decision to join the Order?"

"Fine." George said resentfully. "We'll contact Professor Dumbledore."

When everyone had disappeared, Harry looked around at Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

"Do you get the feeling Voldemort's trying to tell me something?" He asked despairingly.


	10. Padfoot and Prongs

**Chapter 10: Padfoot and Prongs **

"You-Know-Who has a spy in the Magical Law Enforcement staff Kingsley; it's the only thing that makes sense." Arthur Weasley was saying tiredly.

"None of the senior staff would turn to his side from our division. I know them all too well." Kingsley replied protectively. "They're good men."

"It could be in the Minister's own people." Someone Harry hadn't heard before suggested.

"Well I've known most of the men in our department for years. The traitor's not there." Kingsley said with an air of definitiveness.

"I knew Pettigrew for years." Harry heard Lupin's voice say quietly.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were sitting upstairs in the dining room, upgraded Extendable Ears to their ears. Fred and George had given them to them as soon as the Order members returned. Harry knew it was because they had been forbidden to go to Azkaban with the Order.

"What kind of clearance level would they need?" Bill was now asking.

"They knew where all the recording equipment was, how to get past all of the charms, where exactly to go to disable the anti-apparition jinxes..." Moody told him. "Only the Head of the Magical Law Department and the heads of the sub-divisions would know that kind of information. Unless the security has been getting lax since I left, Kingsley, one of your pals is the man."

"It's not our department that's the problem Mad-Eye. It's Fudge! You should see what he's done to security in the Ministry, he wants to know everything whenever he wants it, it'd be easy to find out anything for his staff." Tonks said.

"Sooner he goes the better." Kingsley rumbled. "Hope Amelia applies; we might get some proper security back in our internal affairs. Tonks is right – Fudge has made it a circus."

"What about Veritaserum?" One of the twins asked, "Check out the people who could've done it."

"It wouldn't work Fred," Bill told his brother, "You can bet any spy would take antidotes to truth potions every day, they'd be masters at techniques for defending their minds too. It just wouldn't be reliable enough."

"Keep your eyes out, all of you," Moody was saying, "even on people you think are friends. We've been betrayed by people we thought were our own before. Constant vigilance, that's the way."

"When'll Albus be here?" Someone asked, the voice seemed slightly familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place it.

"He's talking with Madam Bones about security, and where they can put prisoners." Arthur Weasley's voice replied. "He said he'd arrange an Order meeting tomorrow, he'll let us know in the normal way."

"I don't know what happened in Severus' hearing," Kingsley said, "but I think she's had more than enough of Fudge – he'd be furious if he finds out that the two of them were meeting about something like this, but I don't think she gives a damn."

"Well we all know that worse than him might get elected." Moody growled. "Dumbledore ought to get into his head that that's where we need him most, but he won't leave the damned school."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So," George Weasley asked early the next morning (there hadn't been time to discuss it when the meeting had ended) "I take it you heard everything?"

"Yup." Ron told him. "So there was no-one there when they arrived?"

"Well, there was," Fred corrected him, "but they seemed to know exactly where to break the charms to stop themselves being seen, and exactly where to cast their own spells to stop anyone getting to them. By the time the Order got through, they were all gone."

"Malfoy too?" Harry asked, knowing the answer.

"Everyone was gone, even the non-Death Eaters."

"So the people he set free have almost certainly joined him." Ginny summed up glumly.

"Yup." George confirmed.

"How do we stop You-Know-Who if he has spies in the Law Enforcement Office?" Ron asked. "He'll know everything the Ministry is doing."

"We better hope he doesn't have spies in the Order." Harry said.

No-one said a word. Everyone looked very, very tense.

"So..." Fred began tentatively, "Did Snape sound convincing in his hearing? Is he a spy?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then at Hermione.

"Er... I really don't fancy ending up like Carl Ferkosky –" Ron began.

"Carol Verkausky." Hermione corrected.

"– Yeah, her – so I dunno how much we can say about it."

"Dumbledore trusts Snape." Hermione said exasperatedly. "I don't think it matters what he said in the trial. If we can't trust Dumbledore's opinions, who can we trust?"

"Dumbledore makes mistakes." Harry told her, in a tone that revealed a touch of exasperation as well. "Yeah, he's really powerful, clever and all, but he's still human, he still makes mistakes. He gives everyone second chances – sure, that works when it comes to people like Hagrid, but what if he was wrong to give Snape one?"

"And what if he was right?" Hermione shot back, "What if all this time he has been giving Dumbledore important information that has helped Dumbledore fight Voldemort?"

"Then why were so many people killed earlier in the summer? If Dumbledore knew what Voldemort was doing, why did he let so many people die?" George replied.

"Imagine if he'd saved them all, then he would have revealed that he had a spy in Voldemort's Death Eaters. Voldemort would have known it was Snape." Hermione said.

"So you mean he'd let all those people die, just to keep his spy alive?" Ginny said in horror. "Dumbledore wouldn't do that."

Harry looked around. Ron looked a bit pale, Hermione did too, but also looked determined not to criticise Dumbledore for anything regardless, and the twins had identical expressions of unease. It was a scary thought, that Dumbledore might let people die in order to try to win this war.

"What if it meant that a thousand times more people lived?" Hermione asked, doing her best not to sound unconvinced herself, but failing.

"Why should Dumbledore decide who lives or not?" Ron asked her. "What do you do if he decides you're not worth saving?"

"It's not like that." Hermione said horrified. "What if he had two choices – one which meant thousands died, the other that meant hundreds died? What would you do?"

"I'd find another way." Harry told her.

"It's not as simple as that." Hermione told him. She seemed the only person who was willing to argue for Dumbledore. "What if there is no other way?"

"There's always another way." Harry told her stubbornly.

"Dumbledore's been doing his best to protect people Harry." George told him. "He's had almost all the Order working all summer on providing protective charms for people, but you can't protect all the Muggles that are out there. How do you explain a charm that would prevent them entering a house without a password?"

"But that's different... you're not killing people. Actually letting someone die to save others... that's not right." Harry said.

"That's not killing people." Lupin's voice came from the doorway. "If there are two groups of people that might die because of Voldemort, and you can only save one of them, then you have still saved one of them. Voldemort is the one culpable for the deaths of the other group. You can't afford to blame yourself for the death of the others."

"That's heartless!" Ginny told him.

"That's war." Lupin replied sadly, walking over towards them. "In war people die. It's decisions like that you have to make in the Order. That's why we wouldn't let you join us last year, that's why your mother didn't want you to join this year, Fred and George. Having to make a decision between saving a pregnant woman or saving a father and his two sons is one nobody should have to make. None of you should have to play any part in a war."

"And the Order and Dumbledore have the right to make these decisions?" Ron asked.

"It's not a matter of right." Lupin said heavily. "We have to. If Death Eaters are attacking somewhere then we have to try to save as many people as we can, whilst at the same time fighting the enemy. None of the deaths would occur if it weren't for the Death Eaters. If they kill an innocent, or one of us, or we kill one of them, they were the ones that caused the death. That is the difference between defending and attacking. When you attack, you are setting out to cause harm, when you defend you are setting out to prevent it."

Seeing that none of them, even Hermione, seemed to be convinced, he continued. "Look, let's put it this way. If there were two groups of people, both in identical danger of dying, and you only had enough time to save one of them, what do you do?"

"There's no way to save them both?" Ron asked.

"No, and the longer you try to think of a way to save them both, the harder it is to save one of them. You have to make a split second decision, and go for it. It hurts – it hurts like hell – but you have to remember that if it wasn't for you, if you weren't there to make that decision, then more people would have died. Do you understand?"

They all nodded. "But that's not actually causing people to die yourself. It's not the same thing." Ginny argued.

"Okay, let's take it one step further. If someone was about to kill an innocent family, and you had one chance to stop them even if it meant killing them, should you do it?"

"Yes." Fred, George and Ron said immediately.

Hermione bit her lip, "If there was no other way of stopping them?"

Lupin nodded.

"I would." Ginny said very quietly.

Harry, who had stayed very quiet during this, glanced at Hermione, and had, as he had had so often this summer, the distinct feeling that she had just been looking at him, even though she was looking at Lupin.

"I guess it would be the right thing to do." Hermione said, sounding convinced.

"But that's still not the same as allowing one lot of people who you could save die, just so you gain a tactical advantage." Ron said.

"Okay then, let's take one more step. Suppose that you know that there is a risk that some people may suffer, even die, but the reward for that, is that it greatly increases the chance of stopping far, far, more people suffering the same fate. What do you do?"

And at this their faces grew uncertain once more. It was Harry that spoke softly, not to the group as a whole, but rather to Ron.

"It's like chess... You always told me that you had to make sacrifices to win, Ron. That sometimes you had to lose a piece here to checkmate the opposition somewhere else. That's why you always beat me, I'm too busy trying to keep them all alive."

"That's different though." Ginny said, horrified. "I mean, that's just chess, this is people's lives we're talking about!"

"Ron's right though. Chess may not be the same as real life, but to win a war you have to make sacrifices. Sometimes, they can even cost people's lives. Is it the right thing to do?" Lupin shrugged. "I often remind myself of how many people's lives will be saved, not just people alive today, but people who aren't even born yet, if we get rid of Voldemort. And every Death Eater that can't support him, every innocent we save, every new piece of information we have to fight him, it all helps."

"Victory at all costs?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"Possibly, but it depends what that 'Victory' stands for. A 'Victory' that stands for getting rid of Lord Voldemort isn't enough for me. A 'Victory' that signifies a world that is changed for the better however... One where people like Voldemort can't hurt us, one where true justice is upheld, one where prejudices, whether of blood, or otherwise, don't exist."

"But if to get that you had to kill innocent people yourself..." Hermione trailed off.

"... then it could never produce the true 'Victory'." Lupin finished. "How can you build a paradise on a foundation of arid soil? If a Death Eater kills somebody, then it is the Death Eater's own fault. Blaming yourself for other people's actions is pointless, and yet a mistake I myself have made all too often. I don't mean that you shouldn't try to take into account what other people are likely to do, but like in the first example, you can't blame yourself for not being physically able to save everybody."

"Have you... Have you ever k- killed anyone Moony?" Harry asked quietly.

All eyes turned back to him. Lupin's face was a picture of composure, but the twins, Harry noticed, looked unusually sober. Harry wondered if they had fully understood what being in the Order might mean. Lupin's eyes flickered downwards, and replied in an equally soft voice.

"Yes, I have."

"During work for the Order?" Fred asked.

"In work against Voldemort, yes." Lupin told him. "It isn't something I'm proud of, but yet I am not ashamed of what I did either. It was something that had to be done." He then added lightly, "By the way, how did you get those Extendable Ears to work around your mother's Imperturbable charms?"

_It was something that had to be done._ And that, after all, could be said about the Prophecy looming over Harry. Killing Voldemort was something _somebody_ had to do – otherwise he would just go on torturing and killing innocent people. And, Harry thought to himself, after everything Voldemort had done to Harry, his friends, and family, maybe he _should_ be the one to do it anyway. Maybe.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Professor McGonagall actually made an appearance a couple of days later, although it did coincide with an Order meeting. With her, appeared three letters describing the subjects that their O.W.L. results allowed them to take and a quick word of explanation about one of them for Harry and Ron. Hermione had taken her sheet and disappeared upstairs to study it thoroughly without more than a couple of words.

"Professor Snape has been prevailed upon to extend his N.E.W.T. level class to include those who achieved Exceeds Expectations in either of their O.W.L. Potions results. However, he has reserved the right," McGonagall continued, at the incredulous faces of Harry and Ron, "to monitor each student's work closely, and if he feels that the student's work is not up to scratch, he will request their removal from his course. So Potter, Weasley, if the two of you truly wish to become Aurors, then you had better make sure you produce a high standard in his lessons."

"Sn- Professor Snape will let us continue with Potions?" Harry asked disbelievingly, Ron gaping by his side.

"He will. And Potter, what I said last term still stands, even if Dolores Umbridge has been removed from the school, so I would hope you make good use of this opportunity."

It wasn't exactly a threat, but Harry got the message. He didn't know how she did it, but he was willing to bet that this new found generosity of Snape's could be traced in some way or other back to Professor Minerva McGonagall. Unfortunately, this knowledge meant that Harry knew he had no choice but to continue with Potions. He had seriously been considering trusting Tonks' opinion that being the Boy-Who-Lived would make it easier to be an Auror than taking Potions N.E.W.T.s.

"And while I'm here," Professor McGonagall continued, "There is the matter of Quidditch to discuss. As I imagine you have guessed, with Inquisitor Umbridge's ridiculous Decrees revoked, your Quidditch ban is no longer in effect, Potter."

Harry grinned. He had pretty much assumed it alright, as had Ginny and Ron, but it was nice to actually hear one of Hogwarts' Professors actually say it.

"However, before you get carried away with by the news, I ought not to need to remind you of my complete and utter disgust at the way you conducted yourself in your last match, and if anything like that ever happens again, you may very well see it return. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am." Harry acknowledged sheepishly.

"Very well. Now that that is over with, there is the matter of the Quidditch captaincy. You two and Katie Bell are the only remaining players from the original Gryffindor team last year. Miss Bell told me last year that she did not want the extra pressure of the captaincy to go with her N.E.W.T.s, which means that either you Potter, or you Weasley, are the most suitable candidates."

"Me!" Ron asked in disbelief. "But Harry's been in the team since first year, I've only been there a year."

"Yes, you, Mr Weasley. When it comes to Quidditch you have a far better disciplinary record than your friend, and discipline is necessary for a captain. Plus," And here she actually gave a small smile, "from all I have heard you can talk a very good game of Quidditch. Up to date on all the latest Quidditch news and tactics are you not?"

Ron blushed. "Harry –" he started.

"Ron –" Harry said at the same time.

"– should be Captain." They finished together.

"Does nobody want the honour of the captaincy of Gryffindor?" She asked, pursing her lips as though annoyed, although Harry fancied she was in actual fact amused.

"No, no," Ron said hastily, "I'd love to be Captain, it's not that. It's just, Harry's the most talented player in the school, he was the youngest player in centuries, and the only time he hasn't grabbed the Snitch is when he was attacked by Dementors. He was better than I am now the first time he rode a broom! If anyone deserves it it's him."

"Seekers are solo players," Harry replied quickly, "Keepers are more part of the team. I have to concentrate on the Snitch, while Ron has to watch everything that's going on. The only way I know what else is happening is usually through the commentary. Ron's great at tactics too, whether it's Quidditch or chess, he'd be way better than me from that point of view. I'd be a rubbish captain, Ron would be better for the team."

Of course, another, unsaid, thing was, Harry got quite enough limelight at school anyway, despite not being made a Prefect, and he didn't want to go asking for even more after everything that had happened last year.

McGonagall closed her eyes in mock frustration. "Whoever's Captain can always ask other people for help you realise. You don't have to do everything on your own."

"Okay," Harry said quickly, "I'll give Ron a hand."

"Is that okay Mr Weasley?"

"Er, well, yeah, sounds... sounds great!" Ron said in surprise.

"Excellent," she said crisply, "May I suggest that you organise tryouts for all positions, after last year, it might be worthwhile having a couple of reserves."

"Yes," Ron said thoughtfully, "it would be worthwhile looking for a couple of new Beaters too – I'm betting we can come up with better than Kirke or Sloper... Even if we can't, it'd keep them on their toes anyway. And I always thought Gryffindor's Chasers should've practiced the old Loganstock's Leap manoeuvre, the old moves are still often the best, and Slytherins in particular have always looked dodgy when covering Chasers that use the pitch vertically as well as forwards and sideways."

"I'm pleased to see that you are taking to your new role so quickly, Mr Weasley. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She half changed into her animagus form, and then reverted as if she had had second thoughts. "Please make sure you owl me your choices before this time next week. Professor Dumbledore seems positive about our chances of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher before the weekend, so your booklists will be out soon after."

And with that, she transformed into a cat, and the cat vanished from view with a soft popping sound. Harry turned with a grin to Ron.

"So Captain, do I make the team?"

To his surprise, Ron was scowling slightly, and he said, slightly aggressively, Harry felt, "Why didn't you want to be Captain?"

"I told you," Harry replied in astonishment, "I'd be a rubbish captain, I don't know as much about pro-Quidditch as you, but how many of the top teams have a Seeker as a captain?"

"None." Ron replied, "But that's not the point, we're not playing as professionals, are we? Diggory was a Seeker, and he was a good Captain."

"Yes, but he didn't really talk on the pitch, not like Wood did." Harry said impatiently, "It was that Beater that left two years before last, Graveney, that did all the talking in the matches. He had to look for the Snitch, didn't he?"

"Yeah and you could've done the same." Ron said angrily.

"And look how well Hufflepuff do at Quidditch!" Harry replied, his own temper rising. "What's your problem? You're Captain aren't you? What's so bad about that?"

"It's because you think I'm useless don't you? I'm poor, and the stupidest of the family, and so you're taking pity on me. Tell McGonagall you don't want to be Captain and she'll give it to Ron, give him something to celebrate. We all know I'll never do as well as Bill or Percy in work, Charlie at pretty much everything, and the twins'll make more money in a year than I probably will in my life. Even Ginny would probably out duel me, and she's a year younger."

"What the h– What are you _talking_ about?" Harry asked.

"Oh come on Harry, we both know you'd make a miles better Captain. You just think you ought to make me believe I'm better than you at something, because everyone knows I'm just your sidekick."

"What? Ron, you saw me try to keep against you and Tonks. So I'm a better Seeker than you... that's why we play in different positions! What's got you all worked up?"

"If I was any good at Quidditch I'd have been in the team before fifth year."

"Ron, Wood was CAPTAIN!" Harry yelled, "The Captain was playing in your position! That kind of makes it hard to get into the team!"

"So what?" Ron shouted back, "I wasn't good enough was I? I single-handedly lost the second match I ever played, and if it wasn't for you I would have cost us the first too. And it's not just Quidditch, you're better than me at everything, even the thing I got an Outstanding at, you went and got an Outstanding Recognition!"

"What? Come on mate! Our O.W.L. results were nearly identical! Okay, I beat you at Defence Against the Dark Arts, but you were way better in History of Magic, and you beat me in Divination too. How can I be miles better than you at everything?"

"Oh, come off it, look at everything you've done! And what have I done? Had loads of goals scored against me in Quidditch, and been knocked out a couple of times by people you went on to stop. Quidditch, Riddle and his diary, I was just used as part of a challenge for you in the Tri-Wizard, then there was the Brain, even Sirius stopped me being any use in third year didn't he?"

Harry, who had been firstly confused, and then annoyed by Ron's outburst, turned his back on him without even thinking. His insides had suddenly been replaced by iron piping. There was utter silence. Harry strode towards the door, but before he could reach it to open it, it sprang open, and Hermione was standing behind it.

"Why all the shouting?" She asked. "Harry, what's –"

Ron interrupted furiously. "Harry seems to think that I'm not good enough to do anything myself, and that I want his pity."

"Harry, what...?" Hermione asked walking in to the room.

Harry said nothing, but pushed past her, slamming the door behind him. He leant against the wall, trying to control his breathing, and regain some feeling in his stomach. Ron's voice came indistinctly from the room. Suddenly there was a burst of noise from the room behind him. Hermione had exploded at Ron.

"Did you even bother to think that maybe Harry is sick and tired of everyone staring and pointing at him? Maybe he doesn't want any of this attention! And who says he's going to have the time to do it anyway? What with Voldemort – YES VOLDEMORT – and the Prophecy –"

Harry regained control of his body, and practically ran as fast as he could away from the room. He could still hear Ron and Hermione yelling at each other sporadically as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. ("And what if Harry meant what he said, and wasn't making excuses, Ron?" – "Yeah right Hermione, he's mad about Quidditch, why wouldn't he want to be Captain?")

An hour later, Hermione knocked softly on Harry's locked door. "Are you all right?" She whispered through the door.

Harry didn't answer, but she continued to talk from behind the barrier. "Harry, Ron's sorry, he didn't mean to bring up Sirius like that." Harry remained silent. "Look, I'll be in my room if you want to talk, Harry, okay? Ron's gone home."

Harry heard her walking away, and had no intention of going to see her anytime soon. He stared at the mirror in his hand, looking through it as if it wasn't even there. He didn't understand Ron's outburst, and had no intention of bothering to work it out at the moment. He was too busy asking himself why even the mention of Sirius got him worked up. He had to deal with it somehow, or else his parents' sacrifice that Voldemort had decided to show him would all be in vain. And yes, Sirius' sacrifice too. For Sirius' death had been caused because he had wanted to protect Harry.

Harry continued to lay there, his mind moving on to wondering if Hermione's books were right or not. Maybe it would help to talk with someone; after all, Dumbledore had claimed that the only reason he had had to immediately relive the fight with Voldemort in fourth year was because it would be harder the longer it went on if he didn't. But then he _had_ talked about what had happened to some extent, to Hermione and Ron. He hadn't gone into great detail, but then, he didn't need to. And then there was the fact that every time he thought of Sirius, his mind froze, his chest constricted, and his legs turned to jelly.

If he did talk to someone – not saying he would do, he told himself, but if he did – who would he talk to? Not Hermione, she'd be too full of suggestions as to what he should do, and he didn't want to hear them. Not Ron, even if he hadn't just had a temper tantrum about something, Harry knew he'd just get tongue-tied and not know what to do or say either. So who? Tonks? Lupin? Harry liked talking to Tonks, but... he couldn't see him talking to her like that. Maybe Lupin then? But he was having difficulties talking about Sirius too, according to Ginny. Although having said that, she also seemed to think that he was the person who could help Lupin get to grips with Sirius' death, and he severely doubted that.

Then of course there was the fact that Lupin had continuously tried to talk to Harry about Sirius when Harry had first come to Grimmauld Place. Harry still wasn't sure why he had done that, but he guessed it meant that Remus was quite willing to discuss him. Ginny also claimed that Lupin looked like he had nothing to live for, and despite the talk they had had, the image of Lupin saying he was going to kill Voldemort meant Harry was inclined to think Ginny may have been right to some extent there.

There was another soft knock on the door. "Harry?" It was Lupin – he had obviously returned from whatever Order mission he had been on.

Harry sat up, but remained staring at the mirror in front of him, and only looked up when the door creaked open. Remus walked a pace or two into the room, closing the door behind him, then stopped, and stared at the mirror in Harry's hands.

"Sirius gave it to me last Christmas." Harry told him quietly, looking back at the mirror. "It was after I found out about Snape's Occlumency lessons. He told me to use it if Snape gave me a hard time. I never even opened the package, I thought he'd burst into Hogwarts or something and get arrested. When I had the vision... I didn't know what it was, I didn't realise I could contact him immediately... I didn't think of it..."

Lupin's weight caused the mattress to depress, and his voice came hoarsely from Harry's right.

"Is that James' mirror?" He asked.

Harry nodded. "Did you have one too?"

Remus gave a reminiscent smile. "No, not me. They often used them to set up pranks and things, often enough on me as well! When they made them, they wouldn't have known enough magic to make a three-way one anyway. And changing it later... would've been a pain to do. No... Sirius and James always had a special bond. I couldn't believe it when I discovered Sirius had betrayed him. I shouldn't have believed it." He said, shaking his head.

Harry suddenly noticed that despite their promises, they had both pretty much brought up things they felt guilty about in almost their very next private conversation. Remus seemed to have noticed it too, for he gave a sheepish smile.

"But nothing that can be done about that now, right?"

"No." Harry agreed. There was a short silence, before he continued spontaneously. "Moony? Did you ever feel a bit lonely because my dad and Sirius were such good friends, and they hung out together all the time?"

Remus looked surprised. "Why ever do you think that?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I just thought of it then. People are always telling me they were inseparable, and I just thought – I dunno – I just thought it must have got a bit annoying or something."

He shook his head. "Not really. After I got the bite I had to be kept away from other children. The fact that James and Sirius didn't care about it – it told me everything I really needed to know about their friendship. If they went off on their own, or talked to each other on their mirrors, then I knew they were just trying to pull a trick on someone. They knew it wasn't something I'd do, and I might even try to persuade them not to do it, so the fact they didn't include me in it didn't bother me."

"See, that sounds lonely." Harry said.

Remus laughed. "No, it wasn't. Just knowing I had people as friends – real friends – that was enough for someone like me. Werewolves have solitary lives you know, I'm one of the lucky ones that have friends willing to look past – past my little problem, as James used to say." He gave a genuine grin.

"What were they like in school?" Harry asked him. "I mean, I kept hearing all this really nice stuff about them from people, and then I saw that memory of Snape's. What were they really like, the bad stuff as well as the good? There's so much I wanted to find out about Sirius as well as my parents. I mean... I feel like... I feel like I know him –" his throat constricted, "like I knew him – really well, and yet like I didn't know him at all."

Remus looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "If you like, I could ask Dumbledore for his Pensieve again, and show you some of my memories – of our time together. I can promise you that not many of them are like Snape's."

"But some are?" Harry asked, almost rhetorically.

"Yes. Some are." Lupin said grimly. "Otherwise... Otherwise ... Maybe ..." he continued slowly, "Do you have our map?"

"The Marauder's Map?" Harry asked incredulously, "Of course I do!"

"Can I see it please?" Remus said evenly, but Harry thought he was struggling to contain a grin.

Harry sprung off the bed and rummaged around in his trunk for a while, finally producing a piece of worn, battered, old parchment. He handed it to Remus Lupin expectantly. Remus took out his wand, tapped the paper, and spoke in a clear voice.

"Padfoot, Prongs, are you here?"

The map did nothing. It stayed just as blank as ever. Harry looked at his companion inquiringly. "Moony, what?"

But Lupin was grinning now, and held up a finger. "I'm sure there's a way..." He muttered, more to himself than anything.

He tapped the map again. "Prongs, it's Moony here."

Again, nothing happened, until gradually, almost reluctantly, writing appeared on the blank piece of paper, and Harry looked at his companion in utter astonishment; he was looking rather pleased with himself.

_Prongs, proud founding member of Hogwarts' magnificent Marauders, is around._

By the time Harry had looked back, another sentence was written below, in a style of handwriting that called to memory letters that he had looked forward to desperately, in the last couple of years. It was not as strong, and was untidier than the script that had adorned those letters, but there was a certain similarity.

_Padfoot, noble protector of all that is true and just, waits at attention._

Remus laughed heartily and looked at the parchment in a fondly reminiscent way. "I'd almost forgotten that when we made this they were going through a bit of a preening phase." He tapped the parchment again, "Right you two, like I said, this is Moony, I've got someone here I'd like you to meet. His name is Harry."

_Moony? _Wrote Padfoot's hand. _I knew we ought to have included voice recognition in the charms, Prongs_. _How can we be sure?_

_It would have taken too long, especially to allow for changes by age and everything. I told Wormtail that when he asked for it. You backed me up if I remember correctly too. Now if we only could have had Evans working on it with us, it would have been a cinch!_ Was the response from Harry's father.

_Give it a rest about Evans Prongs, women only distract you, they're good for nothing else. _

_Oh yeah? Who's your latest at the moment then? Bryony Featherstone? Leigh Wallis? Patricia Stibbons?_

Harry lifted his eyes to Remus' again, who rolled his eyes. "Sorry about this. To be fair, we were about fifteen when we made the map."

"Is this... Is this really? How... how did you do it? How do you talk with..." Harry stammered.

"Didn't you know? We had to find a way to test people as to whether they were worthy to use our map, as James put it." Remus replied, "So we each left an imprint of ourselves, so we could quiz any finders, or just insult them if someone like, er, Severus was to find it, as I seem to remember happened while I was teaching at Hogwarts. I must admit I had imagined that you had talked to us to pass our test as it were, and just hadn't worked out you might be able to talk normally as well – I wasn't sure myself. Although come to think about it, I would never have imagined you would have rooted through Argus Filch's drawers looking for it."

Harry grinned. "It was Fred and George, they gave it to me as a present."

"To get past the Dementors." Remus supplied with a twitch of the mouth. "Yes, I can see James and Sirius taking to the Weasley twins straight off, I know I would. Wormtail of course, would just have gone along with whatever our imprints wanted." He said with distaste, before adding. "I think the fact they had nicked the map out of Filch's office would have just given them added brownie points. "

Padfoot and Prongs had finished their little discussion as to women on the Marauder's map by now, and a third version of handwriting had joined the discussion. It was Remus Lupin's own, and seemed just as neat, just as tidy, as the version of the older Moony that was sitting beside Harry right now.

_Very well, if you are me, there is an easy way to check. Why am I known as Moony? _

_That's EASY! _Complained Padfoot.

Remus tapped the paper with his wand again. "I am a werewolf, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail called me Moony once they discovered my affliction and became animagi to keep me company at the full moon.

_Who gave me the bite?_

"Fenrir Greyback."

_What is my second least favourite vegetable? _

He laughed. "I'm quite impressed with my fifteen year old self, Harry!" He tapped his wand yet again. "Spinach, behind leeks."

"This... this reminds me of Riddle's diary." Harry said, apprehension suddenly welling in him.

"No need to worry, it's nothing like that." Lupin said jovially. "That sounded like it was deeply in the Dark Arts, and none of us, least of all James, would have touched something like that with a bargepole. This is simply an imprint of the kind of people we were, almost like a painting really. Imprints can't grow from their experiences – no matter what, the Marauders in this map will always act like we would have acted at that time in our lives. But to make something that can actually grow... To give it a soul... That is almost the stuff of myths. Look, try talking to them, you won't know the true Sirius and James obviously, but you will know that no matter what they did as teenagers, they were both in essence still good people."

_Okay, _wrote both Padfoot and Prongs in synchrony, _who is this Harry?_

Harry tapped the paper with his wand – he could imagine this could get a bit annoying after awhile. "Er... Hi. I'm Harry."

_Are you the person that has been using our map? _Prongs asked.

"Yeah, I have. How'd you know?"

_Moony would never have been after curfew as often as you have, and I can't see him teaching!_

Remus smiled at Harry, who grinned back.

"Professor Lupin was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I've ever had."

_Glad to see you're doing something useful with your time , Moony , nowadays. _Came the untidy scrawl of Padfoot.

_Thanks, guess that means I got through my O.W.L.s alright then._ Came the map's Moony's own reply.

Harry got the feeling that if he had just opened up the map at the right time before now, he might have seen the Marauders having a conversation. It was bizarre, and he had a similarly confusing set of emotions running through his head as well. He wasn't sure what to think, whether he was nervous, excited, worried, delighted, scared, trusting, or a hundred other sets of feelings. The thought of stopping the conversations, however, never entered his head.

_Moony, a teacher? Honestly? But you said was, _came Prongs' writing, _if he was a great teacher, why isn't he still teaching now? _

"Snape told the Slytherins he was a werewolf. He had to resign."

_Those damned prejudiced c- _and Prongs' went into a colourful rant against Purebloods and wizards in general that cared more about blood and people's family trees, than the kind of person they were. Harry grinned in pride.

_How could that greasy haired Snivellus ever become a teacher?_ Padfoot asked in disgust.

_Steer clear of him Harry,_ Prongs advised, _he's trouble – he seems to spend all his days making up new curses to cast at people. _

_So do you._ Moony reminded him.

_Yeah, but that's only for a laugh! I don't actually hurt people with them, just teach them a lesson. And I don't spend all my time brewing poisons, and yet can't be bothered to even brew a potion to fix my oily hair. _

_So because you spend more time looking after your hair than he does, it's okay? _Padfoot wrote, and Harry could sense the easy way they had together, and imagined many days of friendly jibes and laughter.

_You're one to talk! Up before everyone else, and still down last! How many different types of conditioner do you use every morning?_

Lupin tapped the map again. "I just thought I'd introduce you, believe me, Harry is worth talking to, I'll let you folks catch up on old times later when I'm gone.

_What do you mean old times! OI! Moony! What do you mean about 'old times'? _Padfoot scribbled.

"Fin." Lupin said, and then glanced at Harry to explain, as the writing faded. "James loved Muggle movies. I think it may have been because your mother was Muggleborn, and he wanted common ground to start a conversation, but I'm not sure. He used to drag us along in the summer, and at the end the word FIN always came up, so when we made the map... But anyway, I'll try to borrow Dumbledore's Pensieve again, and then you can see a bit more for yourself."

They didn't talk for that much longer, but when they did finish, Harry felt rather pleased with himself. Not only did he have a way of talking to his father and Sirius, even if they were only faint imprints, but Remus had actually looked far happier, even to his own eyes, which seemed to see far less than Ginny's. Dinner that night was just Hermione, Harry, Lupin, and Tonks. Ginny was at Dean Thomas' house, and Ron and the rest of the Weasleys spent the night in the Burrow.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry and Ron next met, Ron gave a grunt of apology, but no explanation for his behaviour. Harry didn't bother trying to find out the reasons why. He had learnt to grow used to Ron's touchiness when it came to things like his family's situation as regards money, and knew not to read too much into it. He wasn't sure why exactly Gryffindor Quidditch captaincy should trigger it, but wasn't going to let it rankle. The two of them put their heads together to decide upon the subjects they would be taking for N.E.W.T.s, although neither of them had much difficulty in selecting Defence and Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions, to add up to the required five. Harry and Ron had long since decided to drop Divination and History of Magic, but to Harry's huge surprise, Ron was trying to convince him to take one of the others as an extra subject.

"I mean it's like Tonks said, isn't it?"

"What is?" Harry asked.

"Well, she was saying that she figured the more she learnt the better when it came to wanting to be an Auror. I mean, alright, Astronomy mightn't be that useful, but what about something like Herbology? Be useful to be aware of what plants do what in the field, wouldn't it?"

"What about Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked.

The thought had suddenly occurred to him that Hagrid would probably be counting on his three favourite students doing his subject, especially after their exam results. Hermione had already decided upon her selections, and Harry knew that Hagrid's subject wasn't part of them.

"I'm not looking after Grawp." Ron said flatly, and then held up his hands at Harry's glare. "Come on!" He protested. "These are our N.E.W.T.s we're talking about, I mean I don't want to hurt his feelings or anything, but we need good grades if we're going to be Aurors, don't we? We can't afford to take it just to make Hagrid feel good."

"Be more useful to take Care of Magical Creatures, wouldn't it?" Harry joked, "We might get good duelling experience!"

"Ha. Ha." Ron said sarcastically.

The two of them were still arguing about the matter, when Hermione came down. To Harry's complete annoyance, she agreed with Ron about the extra subject. In fact, her expression of initial surprise quickly turned into a beam, and she immediately set about trying to convince Harry. Ron looked rather chuffed with himself.

"Look, we found it hard enough last year studying for our O.W.L.s," Harry told them, "it makes more sense to make sure we have enough time to do the important subjects."

"But you never know how the exams will go." Hermione told him earnestly. "It could be a really tough exam, or your brain might freeze, and having another subject to fall back on could make the difference. Plus it shows the Auror Studies Acceptance Board or anywhere else you apply for a job that you are willing to work hard to get where you want to go, it creates a good impression."

"Or it could mean I get average grades in everything, instead of five good ones." Harry said grumpily.

"As long as you make a good revision timetable and follow it, you'll do fine." Hermione told him, and then rolled her eyes. "Oh alright, as long as you follow the timetable I'll give you you'll do fine."

"Remember this conversation when I can't keep up with the homework and ask you for yours." Harry said darkly.

"You'll do that even if you are keeping up with it." Said Hermione, hiding a smile. "Oh come on Harry, look at it this way, you can always drop the subject halfway through the year, but can't take up another one. And what if you decide you want to drop Potions?"

It was perhaps this last sentence more than any other that eventually persuaded Harry to take the extra subject. He wasn't just worried about wanting to drop Potions, but he also remembered McGonagall telling him Snape had the right to throw students out of his class. He wasn't planning any more visits to Snape's memories via the Pensieve, but nevertheless...

"Fine, fine, I'll do it." Harry told them finally, in an irritated manner. "I suppose you'd say to do Herbology too instead of Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Well," Hermione began, "Neither of you did well enough in Divination, and you didn't do well enough in History of Magic Harry, although I think Ron should consider taking it on further –"

"Not a chance." Ron said firmly.

"Those who ignore the mistakes of history are doomed to repeat them." Hermione told them, and with an air of impatience continued. "It's a Muggle quote Ron. History is a very important subject you know."

"Yeah, yeah. And how is it meant to help me be an Auror?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Fine. I'd suggest Astronomy then, it gives a lot of background information on the other subjects, especially Potions – it helps you learn the properties of the different ingredients in the different seasons. But it would also help with a subject like Charms."

"Why so?" Harry asked her.

"Didn't you know?" Hermione asked in her usual tone of voice which suggested that everyone should read the same things she did. "The more complicated a charm is, the more the alignment of the planets comes into it. You can still perform the charm without allowing for it, but it won't be as strong."

"It's all theory, isn't it?" Harry asked her shrewdly.

"Well, there is a lot of theory in it, yes." Hermione admitted, and then quickly added. "But that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"I don't know if you noticed or not, Hermione," Ron told her, "But both Harry and I did better in our practical O.W.L.s than our written. Makes sense to do a practical kind of subject, doesn't it?"

Hermione's beam faded slightly. "Well that just leaves Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures then."

"Yes." Ron confirmed, unnecessarily.

"Out of the two of them, I'd take Herbology."

"Why not Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry demanded.

"Because, well, and I'm not saying Hagrid is a bad teacher Harry – his lessons last year were loads better – but, Professor Sprout has been getting people through their N.E.W.T.s for years now, and although Hagrid will show some really interesting animals, the things Professor Sprout teaches will be more _useful _really."

Seeing Harry was still not persuaded, she continued. "Care of Magical Creatures is a stand alone subject – it doesn't tie in with any of the other subjects – whereas Herbology is really useful for Potions. Hagrid will understand, he wants us all to do really well in life, and if that means we drop his subject, he won't mind. You have to choose the subject that's right for you, not other people."

Harry looked at her sceptically. "Well you can tell him that the three students that offered to do everything he needed a volunteer for won't be keeping on his subject then."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry had been looking forward to a chance to leave Grimmauld Place, and get some fresh air in Diagon Alley, but his hopes that he may be allowed out one afternoon to get his school books were soon dashed. True, he had to go to Madam Malkin's for new robes, seeing as he had had a growth spurt, but nothing else he needed actually required his presence at purchase, and Malkin's, like many stores, were now offering a floo-in floo-out service.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all flooed into the robes' shop, waited in the pitch black for the security grate to open, and then were quickly fitted with Hagrid waiting outside the door as a rather obvious bodyguard, and probably some less obvious ones around the place too. Remus and Mrs Weasley dealt with the mundane things like books and potions ingredients that Harry would have liked to do. Not to mention getting a look at Fred and George's shop.

The days were flying by thick and fast now, as the countdown towards the return to school continued, and Harry couldn't wait until he could go, and leave the house that was his prison. He had successfully persuaded Hermione to spend her last few weeks with her parents – she hadn't necessarily wanted to leave, but Harry played a couple of his trump cards. Firstly, quite truthfully, that he had never known his parents, and that he didn't want to be a reason that stopped Hermione seeing hers, and secondly that if she was going to insist on helping him even though she knew the Prophecy, then she should also know that it's going to be really dangerous with Voldemort about, for both her and her parents. It worked, and she, Ginny, Ron, and Harry all agreed to see each other in London. Ginny was spending more and more time with Dean, and even Ron was exercising his ability to have different scenery a little more often.

But Harry remained stuck inside Grimmauld Place, cooped up and irritable, and not entirely sure why. It wasn't just the fact that he was stuck in Sirius' old house, there was something else, although it certainly wasn't his friends, they were dealing with Harry's irritability remarkably well, and he couldn't blame them for wanting fresh air, especially after he had been the one to persuade Hermione to go. Nor was it the fact that Sirius' inquiry had not occurred yet, and there was no fixed date as to when it might take place, for the reason for that was that Fudge had finally been forced out of the Ministry, and candidates for the new Minister were frantically distributing manifestos, making promises, and generally spreading propaganda about how they were going to defeat You-Know-Who (even if they couldn't say his name for terror).

While Harry knew members of the Order were disappointed that neither Dumbledore nor Madam Bones had thrown their hats into the ring, Harry was unaffected by their fears – he was just glad to see the back of Fudge. Besides, if Kingsley or Tonks were to be believed, then the current Head of the Auror Department, Rufus Scrimgeour would be a decent enough Minister – he was one of the many people whose owls had delivered election literature. No, it was not this that was causing Harry's irritation.

Harry didn't think it was the talks with Lupin that caused his moodiness either, despite them being about both Sirius in general, and the things he and his father had done in Hogwarts. In fact, the fact that they had had more since their first two, and that they were getting more frequent, wasn't quite the grievance he might have thought it would have been. He enjoyed the talks with the Marauders Map as well, even if he hadn't thus far divulged much information about himself (however he sensed that the imprints of the Marauders were only still talking to him because of Remus' introduction, and they would stop if he didn't become more interesting). Nor was he being plagued by visions from Voldemort anymore – the exercises he practiced before sleeping seemed to be working, and he even thought he could feel Voldemort trying to enter his mind, and repel it while sleeping once, although that may just have been in his dream, for it was a very strange one, which had included centaurs, one of the Ministry's Courtrooms, a skunk, and Neville Longbottom's grandmother's hat.

No, if Harry had to blame something for his tenterhooks, it would have to be one of two things. The first, was that very rarely would he go to bed and not dream of Sirius in some form or other, most often in the Department of Mysteries, and was invariably haunted by it for most of the night. The second was that try as he might, he still could not think of a suitable place to store his memories. It was such an open ended question, that Harry found it impossible to answer.

"It usually takes witches or wizards months to discover the most suitable memory to base it upon." Dumbledore told him patiently. "I myself am aware of wizards that took years before they settled upon their final choice. I have even changed mine once, although the work involved in relocating memories, removing the rules governing the old one, and then creating the new one from scratch would make me think thrice before doing it again, and I would certainly not recommend it to other people."

"I just – I don't know how I'll know if it is right or not." Harry burst out angrily, Dumbledore looked supremely unconcerned. "Can't you give me some kind of hint as to what I should be looking for?"

"I can not Harry, for as I have already said, what may suit me, may not be ideal for you. I might suggest a memory of a cool, still summer's evening beside a tranquil lake, when you might best be served by a packed discotheque in a busy town." Harry looked at him almost mutinously, and Dumbledore continued. "I will, if you wish, show you the memory I have chosen, and explain a little about it, but I warn you that it is unlikely to provide much help for you, as the characters of an old man and a young person are so dissimilar."

"Could you?" Harry asked, almost in desperation.

"Very well." Dumbledore said, almost as if he had been expecting this to happen. "Seeing as you are not a Legilimens yourself, you had better use your wand to repel my curse back towards me. Wand at the ready now."

Harry quickly removed his wand from his back pocket, and nodded.

"Legilimens."

"Protego!" Harry shouted.

Rather than, as previously, seeing a brief flash of light, and then looking straight into Dumbledore's eyes in the middle of the small parlour, the first thing Harry knew was the scent of salt and the cold of a stormy night. He looked around – he was standing on a pier beside Dumbledore. Waves were crashing against the shore behind them, and battered the wooden struts beneath them. He was dressed in his same clothes, although his wand was nowhere to be seen.

The pounding of the rain battered Harry's head, and he was soon drenched to the bone. A foghorn sounded in the distance over the water, and behind him it was joined by the lowing of an unfortunate animal which had no shelter to hide from the elements. Behind them, on the shore, Harry could see fearful faces peering out of streaky windows, and shutters being hastily closed in the buildings above locked shops designated by their owners' names. It looked to Harry like one of those small seaside resorts that Uncle Vernon was especially critical of (he was mainly critical of the lack of things to do).

Harry had read about seaside towns like this in his primary school English textbooks, but then they had been sunny and bright, filled with small boats and the occasional person swimming. He looked at Dumbledore, wondering exactly why he might have chosen such a gloomy place to store his memories in. To his astonishment, Dumbledore was looking around at the scene himself rather sadly.

"I think Harry, that there is little more to be gained by getting wet. Let us return to Grimmauld Place." Dumbledore had to shout over the wind, rain, and waves.

Harry felt something grip him from behind, and tug. He flew backwards at a tremendous speed until everything became a blur of colours. He screwed his eyes up against the brilliant light, and tried to dig his heels into the air he was flying through, in a desperate attempt to slow himself down. When he opened his eyes again, he was once more holding his wand, but was no longer pointing it at Dumbledore, who had sat down comfortably in a chair. Harry's clothes were bone dry.

"Sit down, Harry." Dumbledore offered.

Harry did so. "Sir, why...?"

"That is a memory of the first time Grindelwald and I confronted each other." He replied, answering the unfinished question.

"What happened?"

"Ah how quickly the present turns into long forgotten history. I was unable to thwart Grindelwald on that particular occasion. He was either too well prepared for me, or else I was too confident in my own abilities. That village behind us, and the pier upon which we just stood, was destroyed in a freak tidal wave, caused by the tremendous storm we just braved, or so the Muggles believe."

"Then why...?"

"Why have I chosen it as a final fort to defend my memories from intruders from?" Dumbledore finished. "I will not tell you, but leave you to make your own conclusions. That would be most helpful for you."

But try as he might, Harry couldn't come up with many reasons as to why Dumbledore might choose it. He couldn't see how it would be easier to defend against enemies, unless they didn't like rain. He couldn't see how Dumbledore could ever find himself at ease in such a scene, and Harry himself had always found he did his best magic when he was confident. And he certainly didn't understand why Dumbledore would plague himself by having to continuously revisit a scene which he obviously looked upon with regret. In fact, the only reason Harry could think of, was that maybe Dumbledore wanted to make up for not being able to save the place the first time. But he was unable to think of anything else.

"You must not become dispirited," Dumbledore told him, "Unless I am very much mistaken, your current knowledge of defensive techniques will more than suffice in keeping Tom Riddle out of your mind while at long distances, and while you are not yet prepared to face his Legilimency skills in a face to face encounter, that will come with time."

"But we don't have much time, do we?" Harry said desperately. "I'm going back to Hogwarts next week, and I'll have lessons, and homework, and..." Harry paused, not wanting to sound as if his having fun was more important than trying to defeat Lord Voldemort.

"And Quidditch, among other things, which is very important too." Dumbledore finished with a wink. "After all, what could be better from the point of view of honing your reflexes? You are quite right Harry, time will be far scarcer upon your return to school, but this may prove to be a blessing in disguise. While the more technical aspects of Occlumency, which were certainly most important upon your removal from Privet Drive, may have benefited from the rigorous studies we have engaged upon so assiduously, the more creative tendencies of the subject have perhaps suffered."

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Dumbledore explained further, "A subject as complex as Occlumency requires different things to other, more rudimentary forms of magic. For example, time is just as necessary for the brain to get to grips with certain ideas, and almost certainly more so, as tutoring. It is my hope that you shall find that the enforced reduction of time spent on Occlumency in fact helps you to manage aspects of the subject that you have struggled with thus far."

Harry, however, found this difficult to believe. How could you learn more from studying something _less_? Nevertheless, he resolved to work as hard as he could at Occlumency, and, to somehow, complete the impossible task of picking the right memory. Even if that meant he had to work at not working as hard, or... Harry sighed. How exactly was he going to accomplish that?

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The return to Hogwarts was at hand, and the advanced security that Harry and Grimmauld Place were undergoing meant that Harry had as circuitous a route as any to even reach Kings Cross Station. He stepped through the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, complete with trunk, Hedwig's empty cage (the owl had wished to make her own way to Hogwarts), and bodyguards - Remus and Tonks. When he emerged in Mrs Figg's house in Little Whinging, he then had to stand around awkwardly for twenty minutes, listening to the three adults making small talk, waiting for an Order member who was strategically placed in the Floo Regulation Panel's office, and a message from the Burrow, to let them know that the coast was all clear.

When Harry finally appeared in the Burrow, he barely got to say a word to the Weasleys before being hurried into a Ministry car which carried the students and bodyguards, and which furthermore was also being escorted by Ministry Aurors (which included Auror Dreyfus McCarthy, who offered a smile, and a friendly nod). The return trip to London, although far longer than the outward journey, was so uneventful in the extreme, that Harry gave Remus a frustrated glance.

"I know all this security feels unnecessary to you Harry," Remus said in a voice that couldn't carry to any Ministry representatives, "but the Ministry, such as it is at the moment, had to be seen to be protecting you, and it is still far safer both for you and the Order to do it this way."

"I'd have thought it was far more obvious that we were here with all these people around us." Harry said grumpily.

"Maybe so, but it makes sure Grimmauld Place stays secret, and remains a safe house."

Harry made no reply.

When they left the Ministry cars outside the station, and made their way inside, Harry actually found himself looking around for Obliviators following behind them to start wiping the memory of the Muggles that stood gawking at the group hurrying through the station, and when they found themselves at the wall which separated the Wizarding train from the Muggle ones, he couldn't see how they could get through it without being seen. The Auror closest to him however seemed to have no worries of the kind, he grabbed Harry's arm and practically pulled him through to the other side. Harry angrily pushed himself away from the man, and watched Ginny and Ron do similarly as he turned around.

"Was that really necessary?" Ron asked the other two, annoyed.

"No." Harry told him firmly.

Ginny, however, was looking around her, "There's Dean! I'll probably see you later." And with that she left them, and made her way into the crowd.

Harry followed her with his eyes, and found a horrible feeling creep in to his body at the sight that was in front of him. No more was the bustling platform complete with happy voices searching out long unseen friends who greeted each other with hugs and handshakes, eagerly answering questions about the holiday, and eulogising about the Harpies - Puddlemere Quidditch game they saw, or retelling stories of far off continents complete with strange people and animals. Nor were there the mothers, managing to get some last minute scolding in before they lost the chance to for a quarter of a year, or younger siblings, who were insistent upon the gaining of promises of presents, stories, and letters from their older, Hogwarts-going brothers and sisters. No longer was the sound of laughter heard on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

In its place was a stage filled with weeping mothers and fathers, tearfully bidding their children goodbye, and making would-be confident promises about seeing them at Christmas, as well as desperate hugs around the necks of parents from students that didn't want to leave, but knew that they must. The students that were desperately searching out friends were now doing so with a fearful look in their eyes, and stricken sobs signalled the discovery that a dearly liked student would not be returning to Hogwarts this year. Indeed, the only sounds of joy to be heard, were the sounds of relief upon the safe reunion of friendships.

Harry looked away from the scene with a lump in his throat. Ron, grim, but unsurprised by the sight, followed his gaze to the side of the station. There stood Neville Longbottom, with an arm on his shoulder belonging to his grandmother, who looked more proud than Harry had seen her, and the two of them were joined by a smiling Hermione, who had spotted them as they came in.

"Coming, Harry?" Ron asked, as he made to join them.

"What? Oh, y- yeah." Harry said, still shaken, and forced his body into motion.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, I am delighted to see you again." Came the voice of Neville's grandmother clearly through the air as they approached. "Neville was just showing Miss Granger his new wand." And sure enough, a wand was being proudly displayed in Neville's hand. "Such a shame about Frank's - But he and Alice would be very proud of Neville, very proud indeed, as indeed, I am sure your parents would have been Mr Potter, and yours must be Mr Weasley."

Neville went slightly red, but looked happier, and more confident, than Harry had ever seen him in his grandmother's company. Harry had always felt that she must be very hard on her grandson, and never appreciated him or his talents for what they were, but rather compared them to his parents. He remembered vividly when Neville had admitted to his fear of Professor Snape before he faced the Boggart in third year, and then had misunderstood Professor Lupin, and been scared it might turn into his grandmother. Now however, there was obviously a definite change.

"Good morning Mrs Longbottom!" Remus' voice came from behind them.

"Mr Lupin! Oh, and Molly, and this must be one of your eldest?"

"This is Charlie, Augusta, my second…"

Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione edged away from their guardians, dragging their trunks behind them.

"Gran's been amazing since that thing at the Ministry. You should hear her - any chance she gets she starts telling people how I fought the Death Eaters alongside Harry Potter, and how we managed to fend them off until help arrived. I thought she'd be furious about Dad's wand, but she hardly mentioned it, we went straight out and bought another, and she told Mr Ollivander and the first year and her parents in the shop why I needed one. She's never…" Neville trailed off, deciding not to finish whatever he'd been about to say.

"Wish my parents have." Ron said moodily, kicking at the ground. "Well, Dad's been okay, he always is, but Mum! You should have heard her! She was giving out about everything - about breaking into Umbridge's office, breaking free of her goons, going to the Department of Mysteries, not stopping Ginny from going, not stopping _Harry_ from going, riding Thestrals, getting attacked by Death Eaters, getting attacked by a mutant Brain, Ginny breaking her leg… Supposedly I should have been able to stop all that because I'm a _Prefect_." Ron pulled a face. "You know she never gave out to Ginny at all? Everything was all my fault!"

"I'm sure she did, Ron, you just probably didn't hear her." Hermione said soothingly.

"Yeah right, have you tried not hearing Mum yell at people at home before?" Ron replied, causing a grin from Harry.

"She probably did it when you were out of the house, and anyway, she must just have been really worried about you."

Ron looked at her as if to say: 'Yeah right!' again, but said nothing.

"It'll be good to be back in Hogwarts," Neville told them., "I mean, with Dumbledore there, it's got to be the safest place to be, and we'll be learning things to help fight You-Know-Who with. Oh yeah… Harry, when's the first DA meeting going to be?"

Ron and Hermione smirked at each other. Harry however, hastily said, "I dunno if we'll keep doing it or not, I mean, there's no need, is there? Umbridge won't be there this year."

Neville looked horrified, "You don't mean it? I couldn't have done anything without the things you taught us! I even got Exceeds Expectations in my O.W.L. results. And Harry," He continued, lowering his voice, "it kept us all alive at the Department of Mysteries."

"Well, I'll see," Harry said, his insides squirming, and quickly changed the subject, "look, shall we get ourselves a carriage, before they're all gone, and then come back and say goodbye to everyone?"

"Oh! Good idea, Harry," Hermione said, "that way we can get everything stowed away before Ron and I have to go to the Prefect's Carriage."

"Oh yeah." Ron said, making a face, "I forgot we had to do that again, sorry Harry."

"What for?" Harry asked, "Look, come on, let's go."

And with that, he led the way.

* * *

_A/N: At least one person has taken issue with Harry not wanting the Gryffindor Quidditch Captaincy, saying that what a captain needs is leadership, which Harry has plenty of…_

_I'm not going to bore you with exactly why I made my decision for Ron to be captain, unless you really strongly disagree and want to tell me why you think I'm wrong… I do have what I feel are pretty good reasons, both from Harry's point of view and from sport in general, and I do actually consider myself to know something about sport! I have been manager, captain, and vice-captain in successful teams at reasonable levels… so I ought to know what you need in order to be a captain – maybe I don't – but I should do if I don't. Er. If you see what I mean._

_One of the not sporting reasons is that I know Harry won't have time to do it! :P_


	11. The Gruesome Twosome

_A/N: Here we are, Chapter 11. It's taken a while, but Harry has finally returned to Hogwarts. Enjoy! (I hope!) _

**Chapter 11: The Gruesome Twosome **

The sight of Luna Lovegood was a welcome one for Harry. She alone was unaffected by the sombre feeling as evidenced by the Platform. She remained just as dotty as always, wearing a necklace that was made up of corks she later told them came from the local drink (called something she couldn't pronounce, but told them meant 'fruit wine') when she was at the major Wizarding settlement in Sweden. Harry remembered she had said that that was where she was looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. She opened the door to their compartment as the train started to move off, dragged her belongings into the room, which she bewitched to fly into the overhead rack (just as Harry and Neville had scrambled up to give her a hand), and then sat down, looking at them owlishly.

"Hi." She said, as way of greeting.

It may have been a slightly strange manner of appearance, but Harry didn't care. He had gained a new appreciation of her abilities which quite compensated for her weird behaviour, after both teaching, and fighting alongside her last year. And she, alone out of his friends, knew what it was like to lose someone close to you, after having come to rely on them. Neville, like himself, had never known his parents, which was just as bad, but in another way.

The three of them were happily munching their way through Pumpkin Pasties, and the usual supply of chocolate, when Ron and Hermione came in, not looking at all happy.

"What's up?" Harry asked, chucking them both Chocolate Frogs.

"Voldemort killed the person who was going to be Head Boy." Hermione said, catching her frog, but not looking remotely interested in eating it, "The day he got his badge."

Harry, Luna, and Neville all stared at the two prefects, scarcely believing Hermione.

"He was a Slytherin." Ron told them. He looked like he didn't know what to think.

"He what?" Neville and Harry said together, loudly.

"I know he was a Slytherin, but he was a really nice person–"

"For a Slytherin." Ron interrupted.

"He was, Ron," Hermione said angrily, "he was nothing like the Slytherins we know. He was even civil to me when we had to patrol the corridors with Filch, and you know what they're usually like with Muggleborns. He was ambitious, but he was still really nice. The rumour is, that Voldemort and his Death Eaters came to recruit him, and he refused."

"That doesn't sound like a Slytherin to me." Harry told them. "Isn't the whole point of being a Slytherin that you save your own skin, even if other people die instead?"

"Apparently, he's meant to have said that Salazar Slytherin would never allow one of his students to take the Dark Mark, saying it would mean they were someone else's property or something." Ron told them sceptically.

"Not all Slytherins are like Malfoy, you know." Hermione told their disbelieving faces. "Some of them just believe in the Pureblood thing, some of them just are really ambitious. If all of them were bad news, they would have got rid of the Slytherin House centuries ago."

"It must be easier to keep track of them to keep them in Hogwarts." Luna said serenely. "They could put Incaflan potions in the drinks, and cast Tartina charms on the students."

Harry looked at his companions, none of them looked willing to ask what Tartina spells or Incaflan potions were. Although he half-wondered if they were types of cake or something.

"You know what it was, don't you?" Ron told them at large, and they waited for him to explain his theory. "It's a warning to all the Slytherins to either join with You-Know-Who or die. I suppose it was a win-win situation for You-Know-Who, either he had the Slytherin Head Boy flashing his Dark Mark around in the common room, convincing the new first years to sign up, or else he kills him, and lets everyone else know why. I mean, it's like Harry said, isn't it, Slytherins look after themselves first, before anyone else, even their family. Stinking cowards."

"I never realised he would go after Slytherins as well." Neville said shakily.

"They almost seem a bit nicer now, don't they?" Luna said conversationally.

And in a strange way, Luna had a point, the fact that some of them might refuse to join Voldemort, did make them a little bit more likeable.

Ginny joined them later, and with her came Dean (Seamus stayed with the ladies, as Dean put it), and although Harry had to suffer renewed requests for the recommencing of the DA and a very awkward moment when Neville had asked Dean how his summer had been (Dean made no mention of the attack), he was nevertheless having one of the most enjoyable times of his summer, with discussions ranging from Quidditch to some of Luna's most wacky creatures.

"We went to Upton Park, you know? Even had a tour of the changing rooms and everything!" Dean told them.

"Er… where?" Ron asked.

"West Ham's ground, it was amazing… got Paolo Di Canio's autograph too!"

"West Ham… Oh! Are they that Fullball team you support?" Neville said interestedly.

"Football." Dean corrected, before being interrupted by a sound at the door.

"Well… If it isn't the saviour of the Wizarding world, the Weasel family, oh, and I see you've picked up another Mudblood."

Harry didn't need to look up in order to see the blond hair, the sneer, or the two oafs either side of the speaker to know whom it was.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here? Do us a favour and shove off again." Ron said angrily.

"Manners, Weasley. I just thought I'd get a good look at the person–" He sniggered disdainfully, "–who's going to lead the fight against the most powerful wizard ever, before the Dark Lord kills him of course. Crabbe here wanted to get your autograph Potter, didn't he Goyle, he thinks it will be worth a fortune. Of course, Crabbe has never been particularly good with his predictions." His companions laughed stupidly.

"Why would I want to fight Professor Dumbledore, Malfoy?" Harry said coolly.

"Tschah, Dumbledore's a fool." Malfoy told them derisively. "And besides, the Dark Lord cannot die, he will always be stronger than Dumbledore. What can be more powerful than immortality?"

"Voldemort fled from Dumbledore at the Ministry of Magic." Harry told him. "You know, when your scum father got himself arrested?"

Malfoy's face turned ugly for a couple of seconds, before he regained his composure. "Now, now, Potter, you are in a bad mood, anyone would have thought you'd had to put your _dog_ down, or something."

Malfoy's face was now one of complete satisfaction, as Harry stood and withdrew his wand angrily. Hermione however, had also jumped up, and whether by accident or design, had stood between the two archenemies.

"Get out, Malfoy."

"Or what, Mudblood? I am a Prefect too you know."

"Or I shall report you to your Head of House." Hermione snarled.

Malfoy took a step backwards, "Oh no! Please don't tell _Professor Snape_." He laughed. "Do you really think that he would care what a Mudblood had to say about a Slytherin Prefect?"

"Speaking of Slytherin Prefects, I suppose you think Appleby deserved what he got, do you?" Ron asked fiercely.

"Of course." Malfoy replied, bored, "there are two sides to this war, the winning one, and Dumbledore's. Only a fool would tell the Dark Lord to his face that you did not wish to follow him. A fool or a Gryffindor, if there's any difference of course." He added disdainfully.

"Hermione, move out of the way." Harry told her through gritted teeth.

"Yes, do Mudblood, let's see if Potter has the guts."

The rest of the compartment, even Luna, had now stood up.

"What kind of idiot would seek a fight with more than twice as many people?" Dean asked aggressively. "Get lost Malfoy."

Malfoy turned to Dean this time. "I am amazed to see you in Potter's company, Thomas, I would have thought you'd have learnt your lesson."

Harry felt a chill go through his body, and he saw first Hermione, then Ginny, and finally Ron, understand what Malfoy was alluding too. Crabbe and Goyle clenched their fists into knuckles menacingly, as if they were well aware that their only hope of winning a fight was one in which magic wasn't involved.

"This is your last warning Malfoy." Ron said, advancing on Malfoy threateningly.

"What, he doesn't know, and you don't want him to find out?" Malfoy said mockingly, "How _brave_ of you. That's true Gryffindor nobility for you, Goyle."

"What are you trying to say Malfoy?" Dean asked angrily, but there was a trace of hesitation in his voice.

"Why, your family of course! Don't you know why the Dark Lord attacked–"

"What Malfoy is trying to say, Dean," Harry said loudly, furiously, "is that one of the reasons Voldemort might have attacked your family this summer, is because we are in the same year, and the same house. Because you were in the DA last year, and weren't one of the people who were calling me loony. Malfoy here, because he's the son of a Death Eater, and wants to have the honour of licking Lord Voldemort's muddy boots when he grows older, probably has the job of telling everyone in Hogwarts that."

"He… what?" Dean said faintly, and Harry thought he recognised some of the emotions that were going through the Gryffindor's head. Harry was expecting anger to show itself very soon.

"Fasolio!" Ron yelled, but Malfoy and his cohorts had already retreated through the door, malicious smiles on their faces, and the spell hit the carriage door harmlessly. "That slimy git!" He spat.

Harry however, was looking at Dean. "Dean…" He began quietly.

"Don't… Don't speak to me." He replied in a low voice, fury underlying every syllable.

He picked his way past the still standing students carefully, in utter silence, until he reached the door, and he turned to look at Ginny, his lip slightly curled. "You told them what happened? Thanks." And with that, he left the compartment, door left open in his wake.

Harry strode to the door, none of Dean's measured steps to be seen, and slammed the door so fiercely, that not only did the glass shatter, but it also came off its rails, revealing an impressive dent. He turned to look at Ginny feeling that his point had been proved.

"Don't you dare, Harry." She said fiercely, "Let him have time to think." And she marched off after her boyfriend.

"Reparo." Hermione whispered, causing the door to mend itself.

"Well that wasn't very nice of them." Luna said calmly.

"What was that about, Harry?" Neville asked. "Dean's family were attacked? How come you knew?"

"Yeah." Harry said shortly. "And Voldemort wanted me to know."

Ron and Hermione tried to steer the conversation away, back to pleasanter things, but Harry remained quiet, and stared morosely out of the window, watching trees, fields, and Muggle buildings flash by. Rain started hitting the train windows, and his view became obscured behind rivulets of water. The countryside outside smeared and grew dull. He had expected it, of course. He had told Ginny it would happen. But that didn't make it easier. And then there was Malfoy … Malfoy of course, as well as his gang, would make sure the whole school knew about it. Damn Slytherins.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over 'ere!" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the arriving students, perking Harry's spirits up considerably, although the mood of the students in general seemed to be just as depressed as when they had embarked.

It was drizzling lightly, and the station looked rather gloomy. Perhaps it was the dismal air of the place, or maybe it was Hagrid's size and slightly wild appearance, but Harry saw a group of small children nearby look absolutely terrified, and concluded, correctly, that they were first years.

"That's Hagrid," he told them kindly, "Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, and Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

The relief was palpable on their faces, but some of their expressions quickly turned to awe, as the youngest of the group, a fair-haired girl, pointed at the scar on his forehead. "Are you… Are you… him?"

"Okay Harry? See yeh up at the feas' mate." Hagrid's voice boomed over the milling students.

To Harry's severe discomfort, most of the students on the platform turned to look at him as he waved in acknowledgement. To his slight surprise, however, most of them didn't have the accusatory looks he expected. Indeed, many of them were like the small group of first years, who were looking up at Harry as if he were Victor Krum.

"He is…" A small boy breathed, "He's Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Er… Yeah, I'm Harry." Harry said, offering a lopsided grin, "Look, you'd better go with Hagrid, I'll see you all up at the castle."

And sure enough, Hagrid had resumed his shouts of 'Firs'-years!" and was trying to gather them all to him as quickly as possible. Maybe it was Harry's imagination playing tricks upon him, but it almost looked as if the older students were helping the first years to get to Hagrid as soon as they could. The Slytherins exempted of course, they alone were pushing in front of younger students to get to the Thestral driven coaches first. With a small smile, Harry wondered if they would be quite so desperate to get there if they could see the animals pulling the coaches. Although judging by the amount of apprehensive faces, quite a few more of the students than last year could in fact see them.

He looked around to see Ron and Hermione's grinning faces.

"He is! He's Harry Potter!" Ron said, imitating the young first year.

"Shut up." Harry told him good-humouredly.

"You know Harry; it's your own fault. You're just too helpful for your own good." He continued.

"Leave him alone, Ron, he's just being a good role model to those younger than him." Hermione said.

"Shut it you two, you're meant to be the Prefects you know, why weren't you helping them? Prats." He continued, grinning himself now.

They made their way to the coaches, Hermione and Ron eyeing the (to them) empty spaces between the shafts gingerly. Harry's attention however was on the Auror bodyguards that were lining the platform. Tonks was among them, and she gave Harry a quick wink and a wave. Harry almost felt a little bit trapped at the sight of the imposing line of wizards providing escorts for the students.

He strode ahead, looking for an empty coach, feeling eyes from fellow students, and the Aurors on his back. He ought to be used to it by now, but he couldn't help looking forward to the week after the first, when people's curiosity began to be sated.

"Seriously, Harry," Hermione whispered to him, as Ron helped Luna and Neville into the coach they had taken for themselves, "give Dean time, you just had to look at them on the platform, most of them won't blame you for Voldemort's attacks, even if some do. You're a hero to most of them."

"Yeah, well, that's just as bad sometimes." Harry told her.

Hermione grimaced sympathetically.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"That must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Hermione said excitedly, almost before they had found their places at the Gryffindor table.

Harry and Ron followed her gaze. Sitting between Professor Flitwick, and Snape, was a man. What he looked like was difficult to judge, for he was leaning back, not allowing the candlelight to play upon his face, which meant he seemed to blend into his surroundings, which today were decorated with black. As far as Harry could tell, he had long black hair, and was reasonably tall, although that, of course, may have been because he was sitting beside Flitwick. His robes were a smart dark blue, and of a simple cut.

"Wonder who he is?" Ron asked.

"Maybe Dumbledore has got an Auror to teach us!" Neville said excitedly.

"Look at Snape." Harry said suddenly, for his gaze had momentarily fallen upon the form of the man that had goaded Sirius into leaving Grimmauld Place.

Snape, however, had turned his head to talk to Dumbledore, so no one could see what he had seen.

"What about him, Harry?" Said Hermione in a wary voice.

"Snape was staring at him when he just talked to Flitwick, he almost looked as if…" Harry tried to put the look into words, "as if there was something strange… something… I don't know, something Snape was trying to work out about him."

"He's probably just trying to decide if he's another Lupin, Umbridge, or another Crouch." Hermione said impatiently. "There's enough reasons to be suspicious of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher already."

"No, it wasn't like that, it wasn't… I don't know, it was…" Harry racked his mind, trying to think of the appropriate description. "It was quizzical."

"Maybe he thinks he might have met his mother or something." Ron said. "You're too uptight, Harry, _you're_ too worried about what the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be like.

"I guess." Harry shrugged, hearing the truth in Ron's words. "I wonder what Snape thinks at having missed out on the job again!"

"Maybe he didn't." Hermione observed. "Maybe he's a new Potions teacher instead, and that's why the two of you are allowed to do Potions."

Ron looked aghast. "Don't say things like that. They might come true."

"Dumbledore's kept Snape away from the job for a reason." Harry told them, "He's hardly going to stop now, is he? Besides, McGonagall said _Snape_ had been prevailed upon to let us in, didn't she?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, but at that moment, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and the students turned as one, to watch the procession, headed by Professor McGonagall, and made up of first years that seemed even smaller than last year. In the main they were looking around themselves, near petrified, although some of them were staring at the ceiling, looks of wonder on their faces. The group that Harry had spoken to at the station were looking around with expressions of interest on their faces, and Harry groaned inwardly, as they spotted him, and started pointing him out to their neighbours.

Some of them had awe struck gazes that looked remarkably like the Creevey brothers (who Harry had been careful to make sure were seated a reasonable distance away from him). Nevertheless, the longer he sat here, in the Great Hall, surrounded by his fellow students, the more comfortable he became. Finally, there was a feeling that things were progressing as normal, and maybe the fact that he was still being gazed at was part of it.

There was sudden quiet in the Hall, as the Sorting Hat had been placed upon its stool, and all conversation was extinguished, as they waited eagerly for its song. It opened its mouth as if taking a deep breath, and began.

_Welcome to Hogwarts!  
__The schooling year begins.  
__My job's to sort the students  
__So that everybody wins._

_To Gryffindor go the bravest,  
__The most unwavering of heart,  
__To Ravenclaw the wisest,  
__Whose brains set them apart._

_Slytherin gains the ambitious,  
__Pureblood's of import to you,  
__And Hufflepuff the industrious,  
__Loyal, generous, and true._

_'__Twas many years ago  
__When I came into being,  
__For two friends had become foes  
__And, the founders, seeing –_

_That the traits they valued,  
__Would be lost under another,  
__Thought to divide the students,  
__With likeminded sister or brother._

_For Gryffindor and Slytherin,  
__Caused a battle to come to light,  
__Which after all these centuries,  
__People still profess to fight._

_It is for this I warned last year,  
__And this warning I repeat.  
__For if we fail to stay together,  
__Then we must surely face defeat._

_Our world faces great danger,  
__There can be no doubters now.  
__And it is up to each our houses,  
__To stand together – refuse to bow!_

_The Gryffindors must fight,  
__For all that's true and just.  
__Never doubt your bravery,  
__Some risks are a must._

_The Hufflepuffs must work hard,  
__Remind us what we fight for.  
__Your gentleness, love, and industry,  
__Must persist and survive this war._

_Our Ravenclaws, our thinkers,  
__Shall play an important role,  
__For research, and new ideas,  
__Are needed for our goal._

_Slytherins, are with split loyalties found,  
__For it is in the name of Salazar,  
__That the beginning of this war is traced.  
__But to our school's fourth leader –_

_Death Eaters cannot be true,  
__In service to Voldemort do they begin to fall,  
__For power bestowed through a tyrant,  
__Is not truly power at all._

_It is my belief and hope,  
__That Hogwarts may be one,  
__And in the houses' true unity,  
__Will the threat to us be gone._

_I've warned you once, I've warned you twice,  
__May this time be the last.  
__Now it's time to sort you all,  
__Then commence our wondrous repast! _

The applause rang out as usual, and unlike last year, there was little talking in the midst of it. Instead, the eyes of everyone along the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables were turned to stare at the Slytherin. It was almost as if the Hat had issued a challenge to the Slytherins: 'Which side are you on?'

Malfoy picked up a fork and examined it in a studious yet bored manner, then glanced at his watch and yawned. Not all of his companions were quite as sure of themselves however. A boy in Harry's year called Blaise Zabini, tall and handsome, was looking intently at the Sorting Hat, eyes half closed, and a calculating expression on his face. Opposite Malfoy, and also in their year, was Pansy Parkinson, who, Harry could see from side on, had her mouth wide open, and was furiously red. She turned back to Malfoy with a jerk, and Harry imagined she had just been kicked under the table. Many of the table seemed to be looking towards their Head of House for assistance, and Harry turned his head to see how Snape had reacted to the song.

It wasn't Snape's expression that Harry first noticed, however, but rather the face of the new teacher beside him. He had leant forward, and was staring at the Slytherin table intensely, appraisingly. Harry could see his facial features now, and they looked to him almost pretty and sculptured, rather than strong and handsome. His heart sank. Was this going to be another Lockhart? All talk and no action? As if he had sensed the eyes of someone upon him, he leant back gradually, gracefully, away from the candlelight.

Beside him, Snape took a sip from his goblet, and looked at it as if admiring the taste. He gave the barest of glances to his students, before turning to his left, and saying something to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Taking their cue from Snape, the Slytherin students started to act as if nothing was the matter, and nothing un-commonplace had just occurred.

"What do you make of that?" Ron said with satisfaction to Harry and Hermione, but before they could reply, McGonagall had called the first person forward.

"Creswell, Caerphyllus."

The boy belonging to the (slightly unfortunate, Harry thought) name walked forwards. His muddy blond hair was cut in a bowl shape, and his stocky frame pulled itself on to the stool. The watching students seemed to inhale as one. For some reason, that none were sure about, the location of the first student's house seemed to be of more importance than normal.

The boy took the hat from McGonagall in trembling hands, and placed it on his head. The seconds ticked by, students of all tables leaning forward, holding their breath. The poor child looked rather confused, almost torn, as the hat worked its magic.

"Slytherin!" It shouted.

Applause broke out from the Slytherin table, but almost as loud were the whispers between the pairs of eyes that watched every step of his way from the other tables. Professor McGonagall's normally ferocious stare did nothing to stop the speech, and it was only after she coughed and called the next girl forward that there was silence.

"Crowley, Emily."

"Gryffindor!"

Harry joined in the applause, this time free of interruptions. He noticed some of the first years looking a little happier now that they knew what was happening, and soon their number started to decrease.

"Lawson, Chloe."

The girl that had first recognised Harry as the Boy-Who-Lived on the platform picked up the Hat and shoved it on her head, intrigued. There was a second, when she seemed to be tensing, ready for some kind of explosion, before she looked up startled. Obviously she had just heard the Hat's voice, Harry thought, amused. After a slight deliberation, it made its decision.

"Ravenclaw!"

Harry followed her slightly hesitant walk to the table, finding his eyes drawn to Cho Chang as Chloe walked past her. They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Cho looked away, applauding the newest member of her house. Beside her, sat Marietta Edgecombe, face covered by heavy make-up which, Harry was pleased to see, failed to completely conceal the odd formation of pimples which spelt out 'SNEAK'.

When the last first year (Wiggins, Ophelia) had found their seat, Dumbledore stood up. His twinkling eyes were sad now, his dress subdued, quite in keeping with the general feeling of the Hall today.

"Allow me to give our new students a warm welcome to Hogwarts." He began in a ringing tone. "To our returning students, as always, I am delighted to see you. Our Welcoming Feast is normally one of joy, and celebration. Alas, however, the first action of our new year must be one of mourning." The black drapes were explained for those who hadn't guessed. "Many of you sitting here today have faced dark times at the hand of Lord Voldemort this summer. Many of our friends and family, including some of our students, have paid the ultimate price for the innocuous crime of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

The jugs on each table magically filled themselves as though at a signal. "I would ask each and every one of you to fill your glasses and join me in giving these brave people the respect they deserve."

Dumbledore paused as the deathly quiet students filled each other's goblets, and only once everyone had a drink in their hands, and had joined the teachers and headmaster in standing did he continue.

"To Caiaphas Appleby." Dumbledore began, and the name was echoed throughout the room.

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table. It seemed not all of the Slytherins shared Malfoy's views. Many of the younger students in particular looked distraught.

"Celes Frost. Raymond Stokes. Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Harry's voice caught in his throat as he repeated the name. Justin! He wrenched his neck frantically to the Hufflepuff table. He wasn't there. Ernie Macmillan was standing perfectly straight, but Harry could see the lump in his throat, similarly with Hannah Abbott. Harry continued to repeat the names Dumbledore spoke, but his mind was busy thinking of Justin, a boy he had first been introduced to in his second year, when people thought Harry had attacked him with Slytherin's monster, and that he had ended up teaching in the DA last year.

"To all our friends that are not here, know that you shall never be forgotten." Dumbledore concluded, drinking deeply from his goblet.

"Never." More than one person repeated forcefully, as they toasted their friends' memories.

The teachers, and then the students returned to their seats, Dumbledore, however, stayed standing. "I shall have some beginning of term announcements, not least of which an introduction, to make, but they should wait until later. Now, we should eat heartily, in memory of those who are no longer with us." And with a sweep of his hand, the bowls and dishes filled.

Harry sat there, not seeing anything. His feeling of normality disappeared. This wasn't how it was meant to be. As Dumbledore had said, the feast at the start of the new school year was one reserved for celebration, not mourning. _This wasn't right._

Harry looked at Ron, who was also, very unlike his normal self, making no effort to serve himself food. It was Hermione, of all people at the Gryffindor table, who made the first move towards the dishes containing the aromatic food which suddenly held no interest to the would-be diners. She reached over to Harry's plate and spooned out some stew.

"Eat." She advised. "No-one we care about, or have ever cared about, would want us to starve for any reason. It isn't the way to remember them." She gave them a brave smile, and did the same with Ron's plate.

"It feels wrong, somehow." Harry said throatily.

"I know." Hermione said in a strangled voice. She stifled a sob.

"'Mione." Ron said, making as if to get up, but Hermione shook her head.

"I'm fine, don't." She told them.

Further down the table, a third year that had lost a sister was crying softly into a friend's shoulder. Not a table was exempt from similar scenes; even the Slytherin table had its share. To Harry's absolute disgust however, Malfoy was eating heartily, and was abusing any of his friends that weren't doing similarly. He couldn't stomach seeing the blond haired boy any longer, and his eyes were quickly drawn once more to Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan at the Hufflepuff table instead. They were sitting straight-backed and proud, eating slowly, and urging others to do the same. There was something immensely solemn and truly respectful radiating from them that Harry felt slightly ashamed.

"You're right." He told them.

Ron filled up their glasses. "To Justin." He said, repeating the toast.

Hermione and Harry joined their goblets with his. As Harry echoed the words, there was a sudden surge of emotion within him. Justin Finch-Fletchley, the boy that had almost gone to Eton rather than Hogwarts, the boy that had been so wide-eyed at the world of magic that had been revealed to him, the friend that had trusted Harry, and sworn to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters along with the rest of the DA. Justin would be avenged, as would everyone that had suffered at the hands of Voldemort. Harry would make sure of it.

When the last knife and fork had been laid down, and the last plate finished with, ending the sober meal, Dumbledore stood once more. Just the motion quieted the room, and he smiled gently.

"Thank you. For the first point of business, I should like to welcome Professor Aravenne, who has graciously agreed to take up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Thank you Professor."

Dumbledore turned to the man two seats away from his own, who stood up, allowing the students to see him for the first time. Harry felt his first impression had been right, as he joined in the polite applause. Aravenne's face was elegant, aristocratic, with almost a feminine touch, and Harry was unsurprised to see more than one female student's eyes linger as they looked upon their Professor. It was hard to judge by looking at robes, but if he had to guess, Harry would have said he was lean, and had an athletic body, which was the only sign that he may have the steel needed to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts – especially in the seemingly cursed Hogwarts' position. Aravenne gave as warm a smile as could be considered appropriate considering the situation, and sat down again.

"Mr Filch has asked me to tell you that Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' Skiving Snackboxes, which were selling so superbly well at the end of last year, have joined the list of prohibited items, as have, most particularly, their Portable Swamps. He has also asked me to warn you that any of their items are likely to join the banned item list at any given time. The full list, may, as always, be viewed on the door of Mr Filch's office.

"It is also my happy duty to inform you, that with Inquisitor Umbridge's dismissal from the school, all Educational Decrees that came into operation in the last fifteen months have been repealed. This means, that among other things, reading the Quibbler, is no longer a punishable offence."

Ordinarily, these last two announcements would have caused at least one person to laugh, or in the case of the last, a spontaneous burst of applause. Such was the mood at present however, that all that happened were a few reluctant smiles.

All that was left for Dumbledore to announce were the usual warnings about the Forbidden Forest (which was exactly as the name might suggest), information about Quidditch practices (which would be announced on the house notice boards by tomorrow evening at the latest), and the expected date for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year (which Dumbledore assured them would take place, but with Auror escorts).

Dumbledore soon dismissed them, and as he and Hermione started calling the first years to them, to show them to Gryffindor Tower, Ron whispered to Harry. "Password's same as when we were here. See you up in the common room mate."

Harry was one of the first through the door, and he did not want to linger. He would make a point of speaking to his friends in the other houses tomorrow, but for now, he just wanted to make sure Dean had a chance to avoid him if he wished. The two he most wanted to see were the Hufflepuff Prefects, and they were doing exactly the same thing as Ron and Hermione were doing right now anyway. He turned off the normal route to the tower, and instead took a route that would take him longer, and would therefore be quieter. He had barely gone twenty yards when a voice from behind made him stop.

"Potter."

Harry gave a quick thought to carrying on regardless as if he hadn't heard, but thought better of it. It was Professor Snape. He stood a distance away, regarding Harry with complete contempt. Slowly, deliberately, he walked towards him, the eyes of the sallow face never leaving Harry's own.

"This is not the way to your common room, Potter."

"Not the most direct way, no." Harry replied coldly, not leaving that hateful face with his own eyes either.

"I believe I have told you before Potter, to address me as 'Sir'." Snape said silkily.

"You have." Harry replied. "Sir."

"Why then, are you not going the most direct route to your common room, Potter?" Snape asked, the flickering torches on the walls making the Potion's master look all the more threatening, despite the fact that Harry was now almost as tall as him.

"I wanted time to myself!" Harry said, more than a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice. "What's wrong with that?"

Snape made a disbelieving sound through his nose. "Time away from your devoted followers? I doubt it. What are you truly up to Potter? Trying to find a way past Hogwarts improved security already?"

Harry didn't answer.

"The security that has been put in place for saintly Potter's protection as much as anyone's I might add." Snape continued. "We could always find out why you are wandering the corridors." He said, withdrawing his wand.

Harry broke eye contact, well aware of what Snape was threatening to do. "I'm not doing anything wrong!" He said angrily.

"You truly have no control of your emotions." Snape spat. "I would have thought, by now, you would have learnt the lesson that the death of your dear Godfather should have taught you."

Harry drew his wand furiously.

"Obviously not." Snape continued. "Put that away, Potter, or do you wish to be expelled for attacking a teacher?"

"I say!" A portrait on the wall interrupted, "Threatening a teacher, that's not on dear fellow, not on at all!"

Harry glared at the portrait, a man standing on a castle ramparts. Beside him, a picture of three old hags stirring a potion seemed remarkably interested in what was happening too. He turned back to Snape.

"You… You…"

"Yes, Potter?" Snape invited. "Do you wish to blame me for your Godfather's death perhaps? Blame somebody else for the things you did? I would be more than glad to say I killed Black, but I am afraid I would be taking the credit for something I was unable to accomplish."

With a huge effort, Harry turned away from the goading teacher. "If that is all, I should like to return to Gryffindor Tower. _Sir._"

"No Potter, that is not all." Snape snapped.

Harry turned around sharply to face him. "What is it then?"

"I wanted to thank you Potter." Snape told him.

"Wh– What?" Harry said, momentarily stunned.

"I said I wanted to thank you Potter." Snape repeated. "Your inability to even partially control your emotions, and guard your mind from external forces may make you a pitiful Occlumens, but the fact that you are unable to guard your mind had some use. After all, it caused your little stunt at my hearing, when you allowed the Dark Lord to look through your memories for the Prophecy, and that, and some of your testimony, are two of the reasons I am still a free man. Even if your bumbling idiocy nearly contrived to ruin all of the good work."

Harry looked at him. That was possibly the most insulting piece of gratitude he'd ever heard.

"Call that a thank you? Come now man!" The portrait that had spoken before interrupted once more. "You can do better than that. Let the lad see how important it is to you."

Snape looked at the portrait, sneering. "Potter's help was purely unintentional. He had no thoughts apart from gaining revenge on another. He is not worthy of such sentiment." He spoke with such loathing; Harry wondered if Snape knew how to produce 'such sentiment'.

"Perhaps I should thank you too, then, _sir._" Harry said suddenly.

A look of something that almost looked like amusement appeared on Snape's face. Harry had never seen the Potion's master with such an expression before. "Go ahead." He invited.

"Thank you then, for attempting to save my life in first year, even if it wasn't you that managed to do it in the end, and the only reason you tried to, was because my father saved yours. Then again, perhaps I should thank you for third year, when you thought you were saving me from Sirius, even though you managed to attack the one that was trying to save, rather than kill me."

Harry chanced a look at Snape, he still had that very same amused look on his face, and so he continued, allowing some of the rage he felt against the man to come out. "But I must wonder, _sir_, why you have since spent your time trying to get me expelled, and spent more time trying to make me do things that I might get punished for than actually teaching me. Is it because I look so like the person that once hung you upside down by your greying underwear, or is it something else?"

To Harry's absolute annoyance, the countenance of the Potions teacher hadn't changed; he had felt sure he would get some reaction with that last line.

"Again, Potter, you give me too much credit." Snape said easily. "I saved your life in first year, oh yes I did save your life, for if I had not been uttering the counter curse, you should have plummeted to your death–"

"I was holding on quite well if I remember." Harry snarled.

"Do not interrupt me Potter, you asked a question, I am answering you." Snape's eyes narrowed. "I saved your life in first year, because you were a student of this school. Nothing more, nothing less. Your ancestry is of no interest to me."

Harry did not attempt to hide a snort of disbelief.

"Similarly in your third year, quite despite the fact that you had flaunted all the precautions that were in place for your protection, you were still, somehow, a student at Hogwarts. How you remained so is beyond my comprehension."

"Professor Dumbledore believes in second chances." Harry said, hoping to incense Snape this time. "Doesn't he Professor?"

"Albus does indeed." Snape said coolly. "However, when it comes to you, Potter, you have long since left your third, fourth and fifth chances behind, which would normally be enough to remove the most obstinate students. While I have been at pains to point out the many school rules you have flaunted, you have still failed to receive the punishments other, less famous, students would receive.

"As for your other claim, regarding my teaching methods." Snape's eyes narrowed. "Despite the fact that you are such a lamentable potions maker, you received Exceeds Expectations in your O.W.L.s did you not? If I can cause even you to pull through with such a grade, then I shall maintain faith in my methods."

"My Potions was more thanks to Hermione than you." Harry told him angrily.

"How much of the Prophecy did he see Potter?" Snape snapped, changing the subject suddenly.

"None." Harry replied coldly, not attempting to hide the dislike in his voice.

"None, _sir._"

"Whatever, sir." Harry snapped back.

"Let me be understood Potter. Even if the Prophecy makes you a vital part of this war against the Dark Lord, you are still an arrogant little boy, who has got where he is thanks to the fact he is famous for a piece of luck, rather than any magical ability. The Ministry may have rejoined your little fan club, but you will put effort into learning Occlumency and shielding your mind. Am I quite clear?"

"I have." Harry told him, and continued fiercely. "In fact, ever since _you_ stopped taking me for Occlumency lessons, I have actually been learning the subject."

"Learning the subject." Snape repeated sardonically. "Occlumency is not something you do twenty minutes in a day – it is a way of life. It is not enough to be in control of your emotions at times of your own choosing, because Legilimens will not attack you at times of your own choosing. _Legilimens_."

While he had been speaking, Harry had returned to looking at his eyes once more, forgetting the dangers contained within. Automatically, Harry started to practice the techniques Dumbledore had taught him, fighting to prevent Snape's access to his mind. Slowly, inexorably, like being the weaker of two tug-of-war opponents, Harry felt his defences weaken, and Snape tug his way into Harry's mind, until the final shred of resistance fell through his fingers like sand.

The reflection of Sybil Trelawny was shown before him, and with a gasp, Harry knew that Snape was going after the Prophecy. He concentrated all his might on trying to force Snape out, to raise his wand, and produce some kind of hex, anything, as long as it broke the connection. Professor Trelawny began to speak harshly.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month di–"

The vision was gone, replaced by one in which Snape stepped backwards, slightly off balance but unharmed. Harry supposed he must have forced him out with his mind rather than wand.

"That took too long Potter." He said angrily.

"Why are you so annoyed about it?" Harry asked rudely, but feeling he had every excuse for his rudeness.

"Because, Potter, while I am delighted to see the end of Sirius Black, I would rather not be next." And with that, Snape turned sharply, cloak billowing with the sudden movement, and marched up the torch lit hallway. Before he disappeared from view, his voice rang out once more. "And ten points from Gryffindor, for your lack of respect to a Hogwarts Professor."

Harry watched him go, trembling with fury. Completely unable to come to terms with the different emotions he was feeling, he continued to Gryffindor Tower fuming. By the time he finally got there, the common room was empty save for Hermione and Ron. As usual, all the students had gone to their dormitories immediately after the feast.

"What took you so long?" Ron demanded, jumping up from his chair, as Harry entered through the portrait hole angrily.

"Snape." Harry said loudly, slamming the portrait shut.

There was a muffled 'Ouch!' from the Fat Lady on the other side.

"What happened?" Hermione asked in concern.

"He tried to use Legilimency on me, among other things." Harry snarled. "He was trying to find out the Prophecy."

"He WHAT?" Ron yelled.

"Ron, shush." Hermione said anxiously, looking towards the stairs.

"But he – oh, sorry –" Ron said, and realising what Hermione meant, he lowered his voice. "But if he's trying to see the Prophecy, then he must be working for You-Know-Who, mustn't he? I mean, Dumbledore's the one it was made to."

"What happened?" Hermione asked anxiously, before adding. "Sit down and tell us."

So Harry did. He fell into a chair, and gazed into the fire. Crookshanks jumped up onto his knee, demanding attention, and he found himself stroking the cat as he gave them a brief rundown of what happened. He found the presence of the cat rather relaxing, and as he remembered what happened, he started to piece his thoughts together for the first time.

"Did he see any of it? The Prophecy I mean." Hermione asked, in a worried tone.

"He saw the first bit." Harry told them. "The bit about me having the power to beat Voldemort."

"What did he do then?" She asked.

"He said something about me not being good enough at Occlumency and then turned his back and walked away."

"Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore." Ron urged. "I knew he was a bloody Death Eater. I knew it. Even you have to admit that now Hermione."

"That doesn't make sense." Hermione said slowly.

"He is a Death Eater, admit it Hermione, teachers can be bad news too. Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore."

"I can't." Harry replied, anxiously. "Not for a week anyway, he said he wouldn't be around until the second week of term in my last Occlumency lesson, and I've no way of telling him now, even if he's still here."

"Of course teachers can be bad news." Hermione snapped at Ron. "Look at Quirrell, Crouch, and Umbridge. That's not what I meant. Think about it."

"About what?" Ron replied mulishly.

"Well, why would he try to look through Harry's memories so obviously? I mean, if he was working for V– Voldemort he wouldn't want anyone to know, would he?"

"So?" Harry asked.

"So why wasn't he more subtle? Try to teach Harry Occlumency again, and find out that way or something?"

"He knows I'm never taking Occlumency with him again. Maybe Voldemort is tired of waiting, and wants to know now." Harry told her.

"But he could have been far clever about it, couldn't he? I mean, if he's working for Voldemort, then he'd want to stay under cover so he could spy on Dumbledore, wouldn't he? But he didn't even try to Obliviate you, did he? Snape isn't stupid. It would be like he had said that he was a Death Eater in his hearing if he were to be found out that way."

"So why'd he do it then?" Ron fired at her. "How exactly is it going to help Dumbledore?"

"I don't know." Hermione said in frustration. "But it doesn't help Voldemort either. It's like I said, _it doesn't make sense_. Maybe Dumbledore wanted him to test out Harry's Occlumency."

"Dumbledore said it was a mistake for Snape to do Occlumency with me." Harry said angrily. "Why would he then tell Snape to try and catch me unawares? Besides, he knows I'm not strong enough to keep him out when I'm ready yet, let alone when I'm not. He was talking about me needing time before I'd ever be able to keep Voldemort out face to face."

"I don't _know_ why." Hermione said. "But there has to be a reason. There has to be."

"You have to tell Dumbledore." Ron told him, ignoring Hermione.

"I will." Harry assured him.

"Great start, isn't it?" Harry told them, wanting to hurl something across the room. "First Malfoy, then Snape."

"Don't worry about the Gruesome Twosome Harry." Ron said, and despite everything, it drew a smile.

"The Gruesome Twosome?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah. Look, they're not worth getting worked up about. Send Dumbledore a letter tomorrow with Hedwig or something, and then forget about them."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry finally went up to bed, his mind was still full of Snape, full of his mocking voice telling him that it was Harry's fault Sirius was dead, full of the fact that Snape had tried to learn the contents of the Prophecy; and yet Hermione still claimed he couldn't be working for Voldemort. He lay on his four-poster bed, leaving his unpacking for tomorrow, and tried to practice his Occlumency. Before long, he was asleep.

He found himself in the Arch room in the Department of Mysteries again. Sirius was standing in front of him, handsome face smiling at Harry. He stepped down from the dais towards Harry, with a welcoming motion. Harry raised his wand.

'Avada Kedavra'.

Sirius' face turned to one of surprise, then one of betrayal, as he sailed backwards through the curtain, and vanished.

Mocking laughter filled the room, and Harry felt himself turn. Snape was sitting on one of the benches, clapping.

"Bravo! Well done Potter, you beat me to it." He said jovially.

"I didn't… I…" Harry faltered.

"Now, now Potter, lying is against the school rules." Snape's wide smile was suddenly stern now. "You must be punished. Dumbledore isn't here to stop your punishment this time."

"No! I…"

"Crucio!"

Harry screamed, his whole body in absolute pain. His head was forced to the side, until he was looking directly at the arch Sirius had just gone through. How long he bucked and writhed in agony he did not know, but eventually the pain faded, and he found himself looking at Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You have failed me Bellatrix." He said coldly. "I am tired of your failures."

"My lord!"

"Crucio!"

Harry found himself holding the curse on Bellatrix this time. He watched her scream and writhe in agony as he had done a short while before.

"My lord!" The woman screamed through tortured breaths. "He will come my lord! He will come!"

Harry lifted the curse. "That's better. When will he be here?"

"Four – four days time Master." Lestrange gasped.

"Four days is four days too many." Harry spat. "Next time Lord Voldemort gives you orders, I expect them followed to the letter, is that clear? Crucio."

With a jerk, Harry realised that this was no longer a dream.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He sat up, panting. He punched his pillow. Snape! It was all that damned Snivellus' fault.

"You alright Harry?" Ron's voice came groggily from across the room – the other three were asleep.

"Goddamned Slytherins." Harry told him. "Go back to sleep."

Harry himself fell back onto his pillows with a thump, but didn't close his eyes. He waited for Ron's breathing to slow, and his snores to begin, before pushing the bedclothes off his legs, and tiptoeing to his trunk. As he fumbled inside for the remains of the dreamless sleep potion (despite the magical enlargement of the bottle meaning there was more liquid than might have been expected, it was running out – he would have to ask Madam Pomfrey for some more), his hand caressed instead something he instinctively recognised as the Marauder's Map.

Taking out both the potion and the map, Harry decided to give into his hunch, and check in on the map for Snape. He closed the curtains around his bed once more, and slid underneath the sheets, placing the bottle on his bedside table, and picking up the wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He whispered.

The small dots slowly slid into view. As luck would have it, it opened on Gryffindor Tower itself, and Harry saw five dots, motionless in their beds in the sixth year boys' dormitory. His eyes passed over the girls dormitory as he followed the parchment vertically, looking for the Potions master. He stopped and double-checked for a second. One of the dots in one of the girls' dormitories was moving. Hermione obviously couldn't sleep either. Or rather, she couldn't sleep and Harry was slightly afraid of sleeping. Harry looked at his watch. It was half past one.

His eyes moved on, there was Filch, skulking through the castle, causing Harry to wonder when exactly the man did sleep. Maybe the Squib did have some magic in him – the ability to stay up all night trying to put students in detention. The other side of the castle was Mrs Norris, Filch's beloved cat, who had just turned off the main corridor it was patrolling to avoid a prowling Crookshanks.

Harry's eyes travelled down to the dungeons, and Snape's classroom, which adjoined his quarters. It appeared Snape couldn't sleep either, for he was pacing back and forth, rather than settling down to sleep. Harry was slightly disappointed, he would have rather Snape was nowhere to be seen, that would have been more suspicious. He wondered whether Snape was mulling over the best way to fulfil Voldemort's latest orders, or whether Hermione was right, and despite everything he had done, he still followed Dumbledore's command.

Thinking of Dumbledore, Harry's eyes now searched out the Headmaster's office. As he had expected, there was no sign of him. Was he out trying to discover Lord Voldemort's weakness perhaps? Harry imagined it had to be something that involved subterfuge, or at the very least cover of darkness, if he had to go at this time of night, rather than wait until the morning. How would Dumbledore react when Harry accused Snape (yet again) of working for the other side? He had the feeling Dumbledore was getting rather tired of it, and that no matter what Harry said, he wouldn't change his mind.

_Planning anything? _Padfoot's writing asked over the Headmaster's office.

Harry cast a quick muffling charm over his bed's curtains, before tapping the paper, and replying, "Not really. Why are you awake?"

_Couldn't sleep. _Prongs replied.

"Okay, silly question, I take it you guys don't need sleep."

_No, we don't. _Moony said.

_So, why are you awake? _Prongs asked.

"It's a long story." Harry replied.

Another hand of writing appeared, one Harry didn't recognise, but immediately knew had to be Wormtail's. _Well tell us, I thought Moony said you'd be interesting. Padfoot and Prongs have told you loads about themselves, but you've told us nothing about you. _

Harry didn't reply, scowling at the map. Why had he not let Sirius and Remus kill Pettigrew?

_Harry, are you there?_ Harry could almost hear Remus' voice coming from the parchment.

"I'm not telling you anything while that traitorous scum is listening." He muttered to the map.

_What? Who?_ Padfoot demanded.

"Pettigrew." Harry spat. "Mischief managed."

But although the corridors, rooms, and inhabitants of the castle faded away from the maps' representation of Hogwarts, the Marauders' imprints remained. They immediately jumped to Wormtail's defence.

_Wormtail's one of us._ Prongs scribbled. _Marauders are true Gryffindors through and through – Gryffindors don't betray people, and they don't falsely accuse people either. _

Padfoot's script was more laid back, relaxed. _Very funny, Peter may be small, but what he lacks in magical ability, he makes up for in guts. He wouldn't be one to turn traitor._

_How dare you! _Wormtail's script shouted indignation. _I would never–_

Moony's script interrupted his sentence. _I doubt he's still there, we'll find out what's going on when he tries to use the map next. _

_It better be good._ Prongs wrote menacingly. _No way is an enemy of a Marauder going to use this map._

_Relax James, _Padfoot wrote, _like I said, he's joking. Probably half asleep for that matter. Moony wouldn't have vouched for him if he were an enemy of the Marauders. _

_It better be a joke. Introduction from Moony or not, no one falsely accuses my friends of anything. _

_Just promise to hear him out if he is serious, Prongs,_ Moony wrote, _my counterpart would hardly have let him use the map, let alone talk to us, without a good reason._

Harry read no more, but rather folded the map, and put it on his bedside table, allowing the imprints of the Marauders to talk between themselves. He drained the glass on the table of water, and filled it with Dreamless Sleep potion. The first day back, had by no means been the return he had been hoping for.


	12. Professor Aravenne

**Chapter 12: Professor Aravenne **

"Harry, mate, wake up." Ron's voice floated fuzzily into Harry's head.

"Ungh, wha?" Harry said thickly.

"You took some of that sleeping potion, didn't you?" Ron said in frustration, still shaking him. "Look, it's morning, we got to be down at breakfast in a few minutes, first day of term and all that."

"Yeah." Harry said, his own voice sounding distant. He forced himself into a sitting position.

Ron disappeared for a few moments, and Harry heard the sound of thundering water coming from the adjoining bathroom. "Have a shower, that'll wake you up."

Harry stumbled towards the sound of the water, and, undressing, practically fell towards the jet. He gave a shout, and fumbled with the controls. It was freezing cold.

"Told you it'd wake you up." Ron laughed. "Hurry up will you, we get our timetables today. Hope we don't have Potions."

"That makes two of us." Harry yelled out to him. "I've already seen enough of Snape for a week."

"When are you going to send that letter to Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"It's not going to achieve anything is it?" Harry said bitterly. "Snape will just say he was doing it to spy on Voldemort somehow."

"I think you should do it anyway mate, you know. Then at least Dumbledore will know."

"Yeah. I guess so."

By the time Harry and Ron had reached the Great Hall, however, they had very little time to do anything other than take their places beside Hermione, who was holding on to their timetables with a very disapproving look on her face.

"About time." She said stiffly, handing Harry his timetable.

"Yes!" Ron yelled, punching the air. "Free period first thing! Let's eat." He reached out to the plate of sausages eagerly.

Hermione shook her head. "Why are you two so late, anyway?"

Ron removed the fork that he had already started towards his mouth. "Harry had taken some of the dreamless sleep potion." He whispered. "I was trying to wake him up."

Hermione's frostiness vanished. "I thought you'd stopped Voldemort's visions, Harry. You didn't have another one did you?"

"Yeah." Harry muttered, a sick feeling welling up inside him. "It was Snape. I couldn't concentrate. Why couldn't you sleep?" He asked, changing the subject.

"What?" Hermione asked. "How come-"

"Hermione, I have the Marauder's Map." Harry told her.

"Oh. I was just … thinking." She glanced at her watch. "I'm sorry, I have to go, Arithmancy is going to start soon. I'll see you in Transfiguration."

She stood up, grabbing her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. Harry glanced at his schedule; double Transfiguration was his and Ron's first class.

"Yeah, sure." He said to the back of her retreating head.

Ron was grabbing more food from the serving plates and trying to stuff it in before it disappeared at the end of breakfast. "LooknbrysyArry."

"What?" Harry asked, watching Ron swallow his mouthful.

"Oops. I said look on the bright side, Harry. I mean, it gives you time to write that letter, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." Harry replied, reaching himself for some toast now. "Oh, hi again Hermione, forget something?"

Hermione had just rushed back to where they were sitting.

"No, well not really." She told them, "Look, Harry, don't send that letter to Dumbledore until we've talked, alright?"

"Oh." Harry said, nonplussed. "Oh, okay, but why?" But Hermione had disappeared again.

Ron just shrugged at him. "I guess not then." He said looking to the heavens for support. "It really would be nice if she explained herself occasionally, wouldn't it?"

Harry laughed, and started on a boiled egg. "Come on, you know Hermione - nothing gets in the way of her classes. She'd probably make sure Voldemort waited until after her History of Magic lesson before attacking Hogwarts."

He looked around the Great Hall; apart from a few similar sixth and seventh year students, who also were starting their school year with a free period, it was deserted. He looked upwards; the ceiling was a clean cloudy white.

Ron followed his gaze. "Not bad Quidditch conditions." He remarked. "No sun to get in the eyes, and not much chance of rain either. Oh damn it." He said, looking down to the table again (the plates of food had vanished). "Never mind. Look, I was thinking of holding tryouts on Thursday, what do you think? I've just got to check it with Professor McGonagall of course."

"Thursday." Harry repeated.

"Yeah, and make sure you're there, and not in detention or something."

Harry grinned, remembering Angelina last year, but his smile faltered when he saw Ron's face. "What is it about people when they're made captain?" He wondered out loud in disbelief.

Ron laughed loudly, before cutting his eyes, and hissing, in a low, serious tone. "Look, I need the support, okay? It's going to be my first time doing anything like this. Maybe we can talk about the kind of things we should do later?"

"I'll be good – promise!" Harry told him.

"Hi Harry, Hi Ron." A girl said from across the table. It was Susan Bones. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Sure." They told her as one.

She looked pale, as if she hadn't slept for a long time. Her face was drawn and slightly blotchy.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked in some concern.

"Yeah, it's … it's just been hard. Even since J– Justin was…" Her lip trembled, and her cheeks glistened. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, reaching for a handkerchief from her robes' pocket.

Harry didn't let her finish her sentence. "Don't be. I know how it feels. I lost someone at the start of the summer too. How are the other Hufflepuffs coping?"

"Better than me." She said with an attempt at a smile. "Ernie and Hannah have a Care of Magical Creatures lesson now. They seem to be able to cope with anything." There was a touch of something between admiration and jealousy in her voice.

"There's no such person." Ron cut in, and Susan looked at him. "Trust me; there are some people I used to think the same kind of thing about, until I found out otherwise. You know, some people that you look at, and you wonder how they keep so calm, but they don't really, they're just the same as you underneath."

Harry glanced at him, surprised. Ron was probably right, come to think about it. Moony always seemed so calm, so in control of things, and yet Harry knew from their talks, that he suffered just the same as he did. He wondered when exactly Ron had become so perceptive.

"When did it happen?" Harry asked, speaking around the lump in his throat, not looking at either Ron or Susan, but rather staring at the wall at the end of the table now.

There was silence and Harry belatedly realised that asking Susan questions about Justin's death wasn't probably the most considerate thing to have just done in the circumstances.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly, still not looking at them, "I just … the first we heard about him was … yesterday, at the feast.

"Oh." Harry could hear the tears in her voice. "It was You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. One … One of the first attacks."

Harry swallowed, and looked down at the table, head now supported by a hand. He pinched his nose.

"I– I'm sorry." Susan stammered. "I didn't mean to talk about J– Justin. I– I'll go."

"Don't." Harry told her. "Don't. It's my fault. It's my fault." He repeated. _It's all my fault. _

"What were you going to ask?" Ron asked her.

Susan dabbed at her eyes with her hankie, and took a shuddering breath. "Well, I was just … I wanted to know … Luna Lovegood said that you weren't intending to keep teaching the DA, and I wanted… I wanted to know if it was true or not."

"We may not need it." Harry told her, "I guess we'll know after Defence Against the Dark Arts this afternoon, won't we?"

"But it wasn't just because of Umbridge before, was it?" Susan Bones sniffled. "It's like Hermione Granger said, we need to learn to protect ourselves against You … You-Know-Who. And we need to keep learning as much as possible, or we might, we might…" She stopped speaking, fighting against the tears that were trying to make their way through.

"I–" Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to tell her how he was responsible for Justin's death, and how he would be responsible for any other DA member's death if he continued to teach them. "But I–"

"We're all going to be attacked in the end, aren't we?" She said in a small voice. "We have to try to be ready or fight back."

Harry felt himself crumple. "I– I'll arrange a meeting in the usual way, and we can decide what to do then." He mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Susan, are you alright?" A strange girl's voice said from above Susan's shoulder.

Harry turned to look at the newcomer. It was someone he'd never talked to before, he guessed a Hufflepuff seventh year. She glared at both Harry and Ron, and put her arm around Susan's shoulder.

"I'd better go." Susan said. "I'll, I'll see you later Ron, Harry."

Her companion helped her up, and looked back at the two Gryffindors as she went, as if to say, 'not if she could help it'.

Harry groaned, and looked around the hall bleakly. "Let's go up to Gryffindor Tower until Transfiguration." He told Ron.

On the way up, and for the rest of the period, Ron explained his ideas for Quidditch. Harry said next to nothing.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So," Hermione began, as they sat in the Transfiguration classroom, waiting for students to arrive from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lesson, "Did you get any work done this morning?"

"Work?" Ron asked. "We haven't even had a lesson yet, what exactly are we meant to do work-wise?"

"Forget it." Hermione said in a long-suffering voice. "What's up Harry? You've hardly said anything."

Harry didn't respond, but rather stared straight ahead of himself.

"Well, we saw Susan Bones after you went, and–" Ron started to explain.

"Oh no." Hermione said anxiously. "She was going out with Justin, wasn't she?"

"Was she?" Ron asked, surprised.

Hermione's face grew even more worried. "If only I was there. What happened?"

Harry continued to look at neither friend, and not say a word. Ron rushed through a hasty explanation, Hermione's expression changing all the way through, with the occasional shake of the head. When Ron finished, she sighed.

"It could have been worse, I think." She said, but in a voice that suggested she wasn't sure how. Ernie McMillan and Hannah Abbott made their way into the room, at the head of the Care of Magical Creatures lot, so they lowered their voices even more, as the room started to get ready for the lesson.

"What's that meant to mean?" Ron demanded in a fierce whisper.

"Well, it's just… neither of you have any subtlety!" Hermione told them, biting the inside of her cheek. "If only I was there." She repeated.

"What'd we do wrong?" Ron demanded in indignation.

"Well, instead of demanding to know what happened, you should have asked her if she wanted to talk about it, don't you see?"

"No, we didn't know that she was going to, well, did we?" Ron said, and Hermione sighed again.

"Honestly – you two… You were putting _pressure _on her. Of course she was going to get upset."

"But…" Ron stopped; the rest of the room had fallen silent.

There was no chance for either of them to continue their discussion, or Harry to join it, as the class was now full, and nobody with any sense at all talked in Professor McGonagall's class. She eyed the students carefully, and placed her case on her desk.

"First of all," She began, "congratulations to you all, it is no mean feat to achieve Exceeds Expectations or better in a Transfiguration O.W.L. Do not, however, believe that you are entitled to rest on your laurels, for there is a very good reason why I refuse entry to all students who fail to achieve either of the top grades.

"Put quite simply, the course is far too advanced for anyone who received a bare pass or a fail to have a hope of continuing in, and unless you put the necessary work in, it will prove so even if you achieved Outstandings. I will not waste my time with those of you unwilling to put the effort in, and anyone who I deem to not be working hard enough will soon find themselves on the other side of this door. I give you due warning."

As she spoke, she looked around the class, succeeding in fixing each student with her eyes in such a manner, that each of them had the impression that she was talking to them personally. Hermione, in particular, looked desperate to prove she would put the 'necessary work' in.

"For many of you," McGonagall continued, "you are now embarking upon the final years of your education, and as such, this shall be your toughest trial, not to mention your most important one. For the rest of you, the ones who may be considering further studies in order to progress in academia or to continue on to their chosen career path, these next two years will decide whether you succeed or fail with your ambitions. Whichever of the two of them you may be, your N.E.W.T.s are vital."

Harry felt a strange sense of déjà vu, it was only last year that he had heard something similar coming out of the same teacher's mouth. He hated to think of what the introduction to seventh year would be like.

"Advanced transfiguration deals with the far harder subjects of creation, or conjuring, and precision transfiguration, such as human transfiguration. Such subjects require great concentration," Her expression narrowed, "and so it is imperative that you pay attention to me, Mr Malfoy, when I am speaking."

Malfoy, who was looking rather different than normal with his normal stooges, Crabbe and Goyle, nowhere to be seen, had just passed a note to Blaise Zabini. Zabini was obviously less enamoured with Malfoy than the other Slytherins in the year, for he was ignoring him aloofly, and paying rather more attention to the class. Malfoy scowled, and said nothing.

"Accio." The paper flew into Professor McGonagall's hand.

Rather than reading it, she eyed it up, and passed her wand over it. The paper folded itself, crumpled slightly, and then grew fur, legs, and a snout, until it was a rather large hamster. It would normally have been a simple piece of transfiguration, but up until now, the students had only ever transformed things into something of the same size. Lastly, out of thin air, she created a clear container around the animal, to prevent its escape.

"Creating a large object from a small one, or from nothing at all, is one of the hardest areas of transfiguration." McGonagall told them. "It requires the ability to conjure material out of nothing other than air and dust. There are two types of conjuration, temporary conjuration and permanent conjuration. I shall expect you to be able to create a butterfly, and keep it conjured for at least two days by Christmas. We shall not touch permanent conjuration until your seventh year.

"Conjuration directly follows from vanishing spells. Today we shall begin an intermediate spell, called manifestus. It is easy to make something vanish," To illustrate, a wave of the wand caused the hamster to disappear, "as you know from your O.W.L.s, but to cause it to manifest itself once more is a completely different matter." Another wave of the wand, and the hamster reappeared in its box.

She set the class to work with a snail apiece, which they first had to vanish, and then make reappear. Remembering how long exactly it had taken him to learn to vanish a snail, Harry set to work, thinking with resignation, that it might take a while. To his surprise however, he managed to achieve some success with it before the end of the first period, and had started (admittedly with no progress) on mice by the end of the second. Hermione, of course, had finished with mice too.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Ron asked as they went to get some lunch; he, like Harry, had been successfully manifesting snails by the end of the lesson.

"No, that went quite well." Hermione agreed. "But it's meant to be harder to manifest something that somebody else vanished."

"It's a start though; it's nice to feel you're actually getting somewhere." Harry said, remembering Occlumency.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry knew she was referring to the fact that, before that sentence, he hadn't said a word to her since he sat down in Transfiguration.

He shrugged. "You know, the annoying thing about this Occlumency is that now I have no excuse if I have mood swings." Hermione nodded understandingly, and Harry continued slightly exasperatedly. "I wasn't being serious Hermione – I'm okay, honest."

"Yup." Ron said, "Definite mood swings."

Harry looked at him, but didn't feel like thinking up a witty retort.

"So," Hermione said, "you've decided to keep doing the DA?"

"No." Harry told her, "I said I'd arrange a meeting in the normal way to decide what to do. I mean, I couldn't really say anything else, could I? How could I tell her why I don't want to do it when she was upset?"

"Why don't you want to do it?" Ron demanded, waving away Harry's explanations. "Yes, I know you're going to say we might not need to if Aravenne is any good, but that isn't it, is it?"

"I told you in Grimmauld Place." Harry said, sitting down, and dishing himself some lunch.

He looked around; Ginny was sitting at the end of the table with Dean. Was he going to end up hardly seeing her if Dean wanted to stay away from him? Were Ron and Hermione never going to see her either? Ginny had been one of them all last year and during the summer – it was she that had been foremost in helping him talk to Sirius through Umbridge's fireplace.

"You think that if you teach the DA, then Voldemort will attack us, don't you?" Hermione said, "Like Dean's family, like Justin."

Harry looked at her. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"Do you know that that's why they were attacked Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Well Voldemort pretty much told me, didn't he?"

"I thought you said he attacked Dean's family because he slept in the same dormitory as you?"

"Pretty much the same thing, isn't it?" Harry said, slightly annoyed, why did she have to argue about semantics?

"No Harry, it isn't." She said earnestly. "You can't help sleeping in the same room as Dean – he would have attacked him even if you were mortal enemies. And Justin… Harry, Justin is – was – the same as me. Muggleborn. Voldemort was attacking all Muggleborns. It isn't your fault."

Harry wasn't convinced.

"What if you're right Harry? And V– V– You-Know-Who is attacking people because they're in the DA? It still isn't your decision to make." Ron said.

"Why not." Harry said, eyes narrowing.

"Because we aren't kids, and you aren't our parents." Ron said firmly.

"Ron's right, Harry, it's not your decision. You said you're going to arrange a meeting in the normal way; tell everyone that doing it might make them targets, and let them go if they want."

Harry sighed – he didn't want to argue. "There's something else." He said, remembering his conversation with the Marauders Map the night before.

"What?" Ron and Hermione asked.

"My parents were betrayed by Pettigrew, what if…"

"What if someone in the DA does the same thing?" Hermione finished.

"Harry?" A voice interrupted. It was Cho Chang.

"Oh, hi." Harry said, looking over Ron's shoulder to the pretty Ravenclaw. It wasn't the warmest of greetings, but they were hardly on the warmest terms at the moment.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, even colder than Harry had.

"Well, I was just… Well…" She looked nervous, and then began rather desperately, "Look, Harry, I'm sorry about what Marietta did, but… don't you think she's suffered enough? Can't you…"

"Not up to me, sorry. You're wasting your breath." Harry said roughly.

"You don't think people should know that your friend is likely to sell out people she makes promises to?" Hermione asked, eyes slits.

"She made a mistake." Cho said angrily. "Just one mistake! Don't you think she deserves another chance? She's a lovely person really, you don't even know her."

"She sold all of us out Cho, even you." Hermione said frostily, unwittingly repeating words Harry had said. "Because of her, Dumbledore was forced to leave the school. You know he's the only one Voldemort fears, what if it had meant Voldemort had attacked? Would you then be saying she was 'a lovely person who made a mistake'?"

Cho looked like she would have liked nothing better than to slap Hermione. "So you're just going to leave her like that for the rest of her life then? She's tried everything she could this summer; she still couldn't get rid of it. You're going to ruin her life for one small thing?"

"I'm sure she'll find a cure eventually." Hermione said harshly.

"Fine." Cho said loudly, wheeling away, saying as she did so. "You two are made for each other Harry."

Hermione blinked. "What?" She said to Harry uncomprehendingly.

"Don't you remember?" Harry asked her, "She was determined to believe that we were going out."

"Oh yeah." Ron said, laughing in a slightly odd fashion. "But I take it you'd have told me, right."

"Don't be an idiot Ron, of course we aren't going out."

Hermione, however, was watching the Ravenclaw table with a slight smile on her face. "You know Harry, she still fancies you."

"What?" Ron asked, "How does all that make you think that?" He waved his hand at the Ravenclaw table in general.

"Well it doesn't really matter." Harry said. "I was relieved it was over to be honest, and there's no way I'm getting back in it. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

"Anyway Harry, about what you were saying before Cho came over, there's a way we can deal with it I guess, but I don't really want to." She said sadly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Why not?" Ron said.

"Well, it would mean destroying that sheet we all signed with Dumbledore's Army on, and making a new one." She said regretfully. "And, well, and that would mean no zits for Marietta."

Ron laughed. "Cho will probably be all over you again in a second Harry. I still think you're well shot of her though."

"Very funny Ron. Don't worry Hermione, you might not have to. You're assuming the DA will reform." Harry told her.

"No, I'd better," She said, as if steeling herself, "I don't want too many people to know how I removed the jinx, so I'll do it before the meeting. Anyway, Ron, Ginny and I will all want to keep going."

Harry looked away, and scanned the room again. Snape had taken just that moment to enter the Great Hall, and Harry automatically thought of the letter Hermione had stopped him writing.

"Why didn't you want me to write to Dumbledore Hermione?"

"What? Oh! No, it's not that I don't want you to write to him." She said hastily. "It's just, sending him a letter isn't very reliable, is it? I mean he might be anywhere, he might even be apparating regularly, and Hedwig wouldn't be able to get the letter to him, would she? And what if he needs secrecy? No, all I was thinking was that you should tell someone in the Order, like Professor McGonagall, and that they could contact him."

"Oh." Said Harry. "I hadn't thought of that. I don't really want to tell McGonagall though, all the teachers here will think I'm just trying to get Snape in trouble or something."

"I don't know, Harry–"

"I'll send Hedwig with a letter to Remus." Harry said, making up his mind. "He at least knows how much of a git Snape is."

Neither Ron nor Hermione argued with that logic, and after a quick bite to eat, Harry agreed to meet them at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, rushing off to write the note in private, and then send it.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Sent it then?" Ron asked, as Harry scrambled into a seat next to him.

The classroom was absolutely packed. Harry wondered if there was a single student not doing Defence Against the Darks Arts. There were so many, they had been divided into two groups, Gryffindors were paired with the Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins with Ravenclaw.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"I hope it doesn't get intercepted." Hermione said, slightly nervously.

"I just wrote: 'Sni– Snape was trying to force me to talk about the Department of Mysteries. Wasn't a nice experience. Worried.'" Harry told her. "That should do, shouldn't it?"

"I suppose s–" Hermione stopped; Aravenne had just walked into the room.

He shut the door gently behind him, and walked slowly to his desk, eyeing each student carefully. Harry didn't know why, but he had a sudden jab of nervousness. The newest Professor was playing with his wand, twirling it easily by his side in his left hand. He hadn't said a word since he had entered the room.

Suddenly, Aravenne came to life. In one fluid motion, the wand raised to point at Harry.

"Incarcerus!"

Harry fell backwards on his chair, the light of the curse barely missing him. He scrambled onto his knees, reaching to retrieve his wand from his pocket. The rest of the class were motionless, mouths agape. Aravenne however, was quick as lightning.

"Petrificus Totalus." Neville was suddenly stiff as a board.

"Impedimenta!" Susan Bones couldn't move.

"What are you doing?" Harry yelled to his classmates, "Move!"

Another curse came at him as he raised his head. This time he didn't duck. "Protego!"

The spell fizzled against his shield, and dissipated. Harry looked across at Ron; he at least had taken cover, although he was clearly confused. Hermione however, was still sitting down, staring at the Professor in incomprehension. Harry launched himself at her.

"Get down Hermione!" The two of them tumbled behind the safety of a desk. "Fight back!" Harry hissed.

Aravenne was still casting spells at will; students were tied up, frozen in mid-motion, or otherwise unable to move. Harry raised his head, firing his own spell at the teacher.

"Stupefy."

The spell was easily swatted, but it at least gave Harry time to look around. His classmates had finally hidden themselves behind some cover, which was now being levitated away, as Aravenne, who was still standing by his desk, continued to cast spells at the students.

"Farcio!" Harry yelled, trying to knock the wind out of the man who was attacking them. "Come on, give me a hand here!" He shouted to his fellow students.

Ron was first to react. "Stupefy!"

Hermione raised her head, wand at the ready, "Imped–" She stopped mid-word.

Harry looked over at her; she had been gagged and was tied up, head still looking over the desk. By now however, the rest of the students – all four of them – finally had some semblance of idea of what was happening, and were firing curses, and then returning to cover.

"Enough!" Aravenne roared, and the students peered out of their hiding places, ready to dive back in again if necessary.

The man had stowed his wand. The students stood, wands still pointed at the man who was supposed to be their teacher.

"Take twenty points for Gryffindor Mr Potter." He said easily, in a strong voice, that seemed to have little twang of an accent.

"What?" Harry asked, not lowering his wand from the face of the man who had just been attacking them.

"You alone reacted to the unexpected event of being attacked by your teacher. Not only did you avoid my original curse, but you also warned the people around you, and attempted to organise them to combat the threat. Superb instincts, you are a natural." He waved his hand, releasing the captive students from whichever enchantment was holding them. "Congratulations are also in order to the rest of you who managed to team up, and start to turn the tables. Take five points each Mr–" He looked at Ron, obviously asking his name.

"Er… Weasley, Ron Weasley." Aravenne nodded, and moved onto the next survivor.

"Dean Thomas, sir."

"Hannah Abbott."

"Sally Perks, Professor." Said a rather timid Hufflepuff girl, who tended to avoid drawing attention to herself in class.

"Excellent, five points to Mr's Weasley and Thomas, and five points also to Miss's Abbott and Perks. To the rest of you, if you are going to be attacked, you are not likely to be warned beforehand, therefore, you must be able to think fast. I was an unknown quantity – you knew nothing about me, and yet you were not ready for a possible threat. If attacked, firstly, take cover, like Mr Potter did, and then shield yourselves from, or evade, any further attacks, in order to give yourselves time to think. Your first thought should be one of defence."

"You weren't ever trying to hurt us, were you Professor? That's why you only used immobilising hexes, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

Aravenne looked at her, "Correct, Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger, Professor."

"Indeed Miss Granger, I wished to see how you would react to unexpected danger."

Harry gradually lowered his wand. His heart was still thumping with adrenaline. This had all been some kind of test? As the Professor reached for his wand once more, Harry's grip tightened.

"As Miss Granger has pointed out, had I truly been wishing to harm you, I would have used more destructive or deadly curses," He said reassuringly to the group at large. "However, between us we seem to have wreaked far too much destruction to comfortably learn in. If I could perhaps ask you all to step aside?"

The class slowly filed to the front, some of them, like Harry, still keeping wand to hand, not completely trusting Aravenne's explanation of a test. Aravenne however, appeared quite unconcerned. He worked methodically and before long, desks were upright, chairs in one piece again, and bags mended.

Aravenne spent the remainder of the class lecturing them on precautions to take to prevent themselves from being taken by surprise, and steps to take in the occurrence that they failed. He again complimented Harry on his natural instincts, and Harry started to feel himself go a bit red. With not far left until the bell, Professor Aravenne changed tack. He withdrew a long rectangular box from a bag a quarter of the size, and opened it, so they could see what was contained within. There were straight, solid cylinders lying on the velvet inside, made of what Harry with his Muggle upbringing, thought looked like plastic.

"Does anybody know what these are?" Aravenne asked the class as a whole.

No one answered, or raised their hands. Harry found himself looking at Hermione, and he wasn't the only one, but she seemed as clueless as the rest of them.

Aravenne nodded his head. "I didn't imagine you would. They are a new invention from America, called Abramites, named after the wizard who had the original idea. They are in essence, practice wands – they can be taught to recognise the effects of spells, and reproduce them in a safe environment. Rather than the spells they cast hurting their target, they merely restrict the movement in imitation. If, for example, I were to cast the Cruciatus curse with this wand, the target would feel no pain, but their body would writhe in agony, and movement would be almost impossible for them.

"The reason I am telling you this, is that our double period on Tuesdays will, at least to begin with, be dedicated to duelling, and we shall be using these wands. Please be prepared – you shall not need your books for the lesson. Oh – and please refrain from informing your fellow students yet to have this class, of what to expect." He ended with a smile.

The bell rang, and they filed out toward the Charms' classroom, where the Slytherins and Ravenclaws were just coming from (Charms, likewise, was fully taken up by the students in the year).

"That, was different." Ron said, letting out his breath in a whistle.

"I wasn't expecting that." Hermione admitted. "He sounds like he knows his stuff though, doesn't he?"

"Well it definitely started with a bang." Harry agreed. "I don't know whether I trust him or not though."

"I think that was the point of the lesson, Harry." Hermione told him. "Not to trust someone without proof of their intent."

"Constant Vigilance." Harry said in imitation of Mad-Eye Moody. "When was the last time I was taught that?"

"Yes, well, that was something Mad-Eye would have been telling us anyway, even if Crouch wasn't pretending to be him. It doesn't mean this Aravenne's going to be the same." Ron said, reasonably.

"Maybe not, but I'm going to keep my wand handy whenever he's around."

The remaining two lessons of the day, Charms and Herbology, were far more orthodox, both beginning with lectures similar to Professor McGonagall's about the importance of N.E.W.T. level studies. Harry wondered why they didn't just agree between themselves for one of them to do it.

That evening, neither Dean or Ginny appeared in Gryffindor's common room before nine, when Harry, both tired from the night before, and not wanting an awkward scene with Dean, decided to go up for an early night. As he drew the curtains around the bed, his eyes fell upon the map on the bedside table. He didn't feel like dealing with it now. Maybe tomorrow. Remembering, however, that he hadn't wiped it the previous night, he reached over, tapped it, and whispered 'Fin'. He debated for half a minute, but also poured some of the dreamless sleep potion into his glass.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry woke early the next morning, feeling as if something had woken him up, but not being sure what. None of the others seemed to be conscious. Pulling the curtains around his bed apart, he reached for his glasses; a shrill beeping was coming from his trunk. Wondering vaguely if it was his Sneakoscope, he bent down to open it. As the top of the trunk lifted, he blinked hard, and closed it again. A beam of light had just blinded him.

"Ron!" He whispered. "Ron!"

However, his red-haired friend stayed silent. Feeling that he was being silly to wake someone, and ask for their help to deal with a bright light that beeped from his own trunk, he didn't persist with his efforts. He cautiously lifted the lid once more, and then exhaled. The white light was coming from his father's mirror. Hand trembling, he picked it up gingerly causing the light to immediately stop.

He looked at the glass, and gasped. "Remus!"

A quick glance around showed his roommates to all be still fast asleep. He looked again into the glass, which should be showing his own reflection, but instead had Remus' grinning face in.

"Remus, how are y– I thought you said you didn't have a mirror?"

"I did some searching in Sirius' room when I got your message last night Harry, and I found this, his mirror, the twin to James'."

Harry put his fingers to his lips, and looked around at the motionless other beds. "Sh – you'll wake the others. Hang on, I'll go downstairs."

Remus shook his head, "Don't worry about that. James and Sirius didn't want anyone to hear them talking in their detentions, sometimes they were far too close to teachers for that. The mirrors only allow their users to hear them; the other Gryffindors won't be able to hear anything either of us says."

"But, how?" Harry said, still whispering.

"I told you Harry, James and Sirius were the best in the school. Seriously, don't worry about speaking quietly."

"Well, okay." Harry said, speaking a bit louder, and then checking everyone was still asleep.

Remus grinned, and then became more serious. "Anyway, I thought I'd better get in touch with you so we could speak in person, what exactly did Snape do?"

"He tried to find out the Prophecy with Legilimency." Harry told him angrily, lowering his voice when he mentioned the Prophecy through sheer habit.

"You do know the Prophecy." Lupin said in a worried tone. "I thought you must. Well I can tell you that as far as I know, that was not in Dumbledore's plans. Tell me what exactly happened, and I'll get in touch with him."

Harry told him everything, about how Snape had stopped him as he was on the way to Gryffindor Tower, how he had delivered a very bizarre thank you, and then how he had caught Harry unawares with Legilimency.

"Did Severus hear the Prophecy?" Remus asked.

Harry hesitated. Remus of course, knew none of the Prophecy, and it was hard to tell him what Snape heard, without also telling him the Prophecy, which Harry didn't want to do. At least, not yet.

"He heard some of the start… but nothing Voldemort would find useful. Dumbledore will know what I mean."

"Harry, do you want to tell me it?" Remus asked, grimly.

"I – The less people know the better Moony, I think."

He looked anxious. "I wasn't putting pressure on you Harry, I just want to be here to help you if you need me."

"It's fine," Harry told him, "Don't worry about it. I know what you mean."

"Okay." Remus said, still looking worried. "Anyway, Hermione's right, that doesn't sound like something Snape would do if he was working against us. Something fishy is going on, but I don't know whom this is intended to serve. I'll get in touch with you later, after I've spoken to Dumbledore. Keep the mirror with you if you can."

"Sure." Harry told him.

"How did the first day go?" Remus asked.

"Weird." Harry told him fervently. "Defence Against the Dark Arts was… interesting. I don't know what to make of the guy."

"Aravenne?" Lupin inquired. "Yes, I haven't met him, but Dumbledore sounded rather pleased with the appointment, which would suggest to me that he must be interesting."

"He started off by attacking us." Harry told him, and then laughed at the expression upon his father and Sirius' friend's face.

They talked for a few more minutes, and Harry told Lupin about the map.

Remus nodded understandingly. "Try telling Padfoot and Prongs the truth, Harry. That's all you can do. Of course," He sighed, "at this stage Pettigrew may be as clueless as we were that he was to turn traitor."

Harry was still the only one awake by the end of his discussion with Remus, and he got dressed quietly, slipping the mirror into his robes' pocket as he did. He sat in his favourite common room chair, turning over what looked like a gold Galleon coin repeatedly in the palm of his hand. He felt as if he had few choices when it came to the DA. He could just tell them he didn't want to keep it going, couldn't he? Or could he?

If he was honest with himself, then he had to admit that if it weren't for Voldemort's desire to attack people that had anything to do with him, he would probably have been looking forward to the DA. Did he have the right to refuse to teach them for their own protection, even if they were quite aware of the risks? Did he have the right not to teach them for that matter? He had this vague feeling, maybe because of the Prophecy, that it was somehow his duty to try and help people learn to protect themselves as well as possible.

The next person down to the common room was Katie Bell. "Couldn't sleep?" She asked Harry.

"Just woke up early." Harry told her.

She glanced at the coin in Harry's hand. "Heads the DA stays, tails it stops?"

"Not quite that simple." Harry grinned. "I'll arrange a meeting next week or something, when everything starts to die down. We can sort everything out then."

"Fair enough. I wouldn't mind keeping it going. Hear we might be doing Patronuses in a couple of months' time in Defence Against the Dark Arts." She grinned too. "So, McGonagall made Ron captain? I got the feeling she was going to ask you."

Harry shrugged, glad for the change of subject. "Nah – she was really pissed off with me about last year. Ron's more suited to being captain than me anyway. Seen anyone that might be any good?"

"There was a first year I saw in the grounds yesterday that might make a good Seeker if it weren't for you, she looked a natural."

Harry grinned at her, sure that she was having him on. He of course, had been the youngest Seeker for over a century, and for that matter he had been the first first-year for something similar.

"No, seriously." Katie told him, "I know what you're thinking, but she's a born flyer. Shame she's so small still or she might make into a decent Chaser too, but she wouldn't be able to handle the physical side. You wait a hundred years for a natural flyer like that, and then two come along within six years of each other."

"Tell her to come along to the practice." Harry suggested, "Ron's looking for reserves for the team, she might make reserve Seeker."

They spent the rest of the ten minutes they had before other Gryffindors started gradually to make their way downstairs discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the other houses' teams. They knew the Slytherin's probable team, and even for the positions they weren't sure about, they had a pretty good idea what kind of player they would be facing. Dirty and big, with little skill or subtlety. The other two were harder to judge, not least because Ravenclaw's team had been hit by Voldemort's attacks. Two of their players had been caught in Death Eater attacks. Both Harry and Katie skirted around the question of who would replace them.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The Defence Against the Dark Arts double lesson proved to be just as interesting as the opening one. Professor Aravenne had met them at his classroom, and then led them down to a disused classroom on the first floor. Most of the students gasped when they stepped inside, for the classroom had been completely renovated. Firstly, it had been enlarged, so that the inside was far bigger than the outside. The second glaringly obvious change was that rather than desks, there were instead four roped off areas, filled with solid looking obstacles, walls, and doorways. They were obviously intended to be as realistic as possible duelling rings.

Both Defence Against the Dark Arts groups were present, and Harry wasn't exactly sure why, but he had the feeling that there would be many Gryffindor – Slytherin fights in the time allotted to them. Aravenne led them through the middle of the roped off areas, to where two miniature stands had been erected. In between them, stood a table on which the Abramites lay, still in their box.

"Professor," Seamus Finnegan asked, "you said these wand things are American, does that mean you're American too then? I've got a cousin over in New York, at the school over there."

"No, no, I'm British, just like all of you."

"I'm Irish, sir, not British." Seamus told him.

"My apologies, like most of you then." Aravenne said comfortably, "I have spent most of the last score years abroad however, travelling all over the world. I only recently returned to my homeland."

Harry thought many of his fellow students looked like they believed that recently would have been a better time to be travelling in the opposite direction. He tended to agree with them. Why would you return to a country on the brink of a civil war caused by Lord Voldemort?

"Listen up!" Aravenne told them. "There are a few ground rules. Number one: each fight will be one witch or wizard against another, each using an Abramite wand. There are no restrictions on types of spells to be used, except, of course, for the Unforgivables. Use of an Unforgivable will result in your disqualification, and if you actually manage to succeed in casting one, I warn you that you shall find yourselves watched very closely for the remainder of your time at this school – time to yourself will become an impossibility. The arenas are charmed in such a manner, that if any debris strikes a person, it will react in the same manner as a spell from an Abramite wand, so do not worry about taking it easy.

"Number two: if not in a duel, you shall sit down in either of these stands, not influencing the outcome of a duel in any way. I expect you to act as the mature teenagers you are. As only eight people may be duelling at a time, I realise that you may have to wait a while for a duel, and I apologise, but there is no way to avoid that. I also expect you to need the rest between duels. Future duelling sessions shall involve teamwork, and as such, there shall be less waiting.

"Rule number three: each duel shall be finished when any of the following is true. Either person is incapacitated, in other words, stunned, or dead. Either person yields to their opponent. Or finally, either duellist holds their wand to the throat of their opponent, who is disarmed. Furthermore, if either person resorts to physical duelling, attempts an Unforgivable, or uses their normal wand, they shall be immediately disqualified.

"If anyone decides not to follow these rules, I shall be quite happy to deal with them." Aravenne finished.

Harry thought that trouble was unlikely to be forthcoming for Aravenne, at least, not after his initial class, as he took his place next to Hermione in the stand. Ron was one of the first duellists, as he faced off against Crabbe, and as Harry watched the duels, he found there to be no possibility of getting bored, despite Aravenne's hint that that may happen. When each duellist entered the field, a large dark red bubble appeared over the right of the field, and a large dark blue one appeared over the left. The more drained the combatant on the left became, whether physically, or due to spells, the brighter the blue bubble became, similarly on the other side of the field. If the bubble flashed, the person it referred to had lost the battle.

Professor Aravenne seemed to have eyes like a hawk, for he took each combatant aside as they left the arena, and gave them a few quiet words on things he had noticed in the duel, which considering four separate duels were going on at once, was quite an achievement. He also seemed extremely well prepared, for immediately a loud gong signalled the end of a combat in one of the arenas, he seemed to know the next pairing to be called at any given stage of the lesson.

"Potter versus Zabini in arena four," he called out, "and Malfoy versus Boot in arena two."

"Nice job." Harry told Ron, as they passed each other.

Ron, who had looked like he was toying with Crabbe, and enjoying himself immensely, gave a panting: "That was bloody brilliant."

The new duellists stepped over the ropes, walking to the centre of their respective sides. Above them, the bubbles returned to their normal colours. Somehow, Harry thought as he looked around, the arena looked even more realistic from the inside. There were rooms with windows, basic furniture, or something similar inside them, and they all seemed completely solid.

"Arena four, begin!" Aravenne bellowed, and as he did so, the ropes that were cordoning off the arena seemed to disappear, to be replaced by solid walls.

Harry, who had never had to cross wands with Blaise Zabini before, quickly gained a grudging respect for his spell work. He certainly knew his stuff, even if most of the magic he used seemed to be geared towards inflicting pain, rather than disabling an opponent. Before long, he made the unpleasant discovery that his 'Protego' shield was unable to prevent some of Zabini's nastier efforts, and his left arm, although painless, hung limply by his side.

Harry decided to go back to basics, and dodge, rather than shield, spells if possible. His curses were having just as great an impact on Zabini, not least because he was firing a greater variety of hexes at his opponent, causing hastily muttered counter curses, and much scrambling out of the way from the Slytherin. Zabini, however, although having difficulty avoiding or deflecting many of Harry's hexes, was still standing, all be it slightly unstably, and he was still sending spells at Harry after over five minutes of duelling. As a curse hit the ground in front of Harry, and actually caused him to fly backwards a few yards, Harry finally decided to play his opponent at his own game.

"Reducto!"

The Slytherin dived out of the way, and the wall behind him cracked in two. Harry struggled back up onto his feat, and as his enemy raised his head, Harry sent sparks of flames at him, and he ducked again. Keeping his wand trained on the spot, Harry slowly approached, but Zabini didn't show his head this time. Some instinct told Harry to dive to the side, and it was as well he did, for his opponent's voice came from his right, and the floor he had been standing on exploded.

As Harry spotted Zabini, he also saw what looked to be a crate directly behind him. Thinking quickly, he concentrated on it, and yelled, "Accio!"

The Slytherin looked around in surprise, and the speeding object smashed his wand arm. His wand fell out of his hand, and he dropped to pick it up in his left. Harry however, was too quick for him. Summoning the Abramite, he approached his enemy, and held both wands to his throat. A loud gong sounded above the two of them, and suddenly Harry became aware of where he was once more. His left arm felt like it had never been hurt, and Zabini Blaise scrambled to his feet. The crate that Harry had summoned was sitting right where it had been originally.

To the surprise of both, applause burst out from the stands, where it seemed their duel had caught the attention of all of the watchers. Harry held out the practice wand he had summoned from the ground. The Slytherin took it. He seemed to be eyeing up Harry. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, or even moved when Aravenne called out the next pairing to take their place. Finally, Zabini nodded, almost appreciatively.

"Good duel Potter, but I'm going to want a rematch." He turned before Harry could reply, and climbed over the ropes, which had reappeared instead of the walls.

Harry followed him, but allowed the Slytherin to get to Aravenne first, who was speaking quietly, while watching Lavender Brown duel against Hannah Abbott. It looked a good battle, with Hannah sending spells that Harry had taught her towards Lavender, who was defending well, and launching counter attacks, in the battle of the DA members.

"Ah, well duelled Mr Potter." Aravenne called to him. "Very well duelled indeed. However, you did not truly start fighting to your potential until you went on the offensive. You need to learn to be ruthless. Duels are often matters of life and death, and if you hold back in a duel, it can cost you your life. It is easier to subdue your opponent, as you eventually found, if you rough them up somewhat before hand."

"Are you telling me to try and hurt the person I am duelling against?" Harry asked in apprehension.

"If you ever find yourself duelling a Death Eater, or even just a petty criminal," Aravenne told him, turning the question around, "do you think they'll have any second thoughts about trying to hurt, or more likely, kill you? Ah, Miss Brocklehurst." He called, signalling to Harry to return to the sidelines.

"Nice job Harry." Ron told him as he sat down. "That was pretty impressive to watch."

"I'm exhausted." Harry told him. "Zabini's a good dueller."

"Not good enough to stop the person that got an Outstanding Recognition though, was he?" Ron said. "Bet Aravenne didn't criticise you much after that. He told me I should have ended the fight quicker when I had the chance to against Crabbe. Don't think he liked the fact I kept hexing him, rather than finishing him off."

"He told me to be more aggressive. That if I'm fighting someone they'd be trying to kill me, so I should do the same." Harry said, shaking his head to show he disagreed with what he said as he spoke it. "But it's not as if these fights are to the death or anything, is it?"

When Hermione came back from her duel, she had similar thoughts. "It's as if he wants us to kill rather than stun." She told them. "I don't like it."

"The duels are still brilliant though." Ron told her.

That, Harry agreed with. He had two more fights, one against Theodore Nott, another Slytherin, and the other against Seamus. Neither of them quite matched the fireworks of the first battle, but they were still exhilarating. In fact, as they left the classroom, and returned to their respective common rooms for a shower and change of clothes, all anyone could talk about were the duels. Indeed, when they sat down at lunch, Harry noticed most of the sixth years telling friends in other years exactly what had happened in the class. Aravenne certainly knew how to create interest in his subject.

As Harry was about to polish off his dessert, a shrill sound rang around the hall; it was the mirror. He reached down to his pocket quickly, to shut it up, when he suddenly realised that no one else had reacted to it at all.

"Can't you hear the noise?" He asked Ron and Hermione, quietly.

"What noise?" Hermione asked.

Ron was listening intently. "I think… I think I hear a faint beeping sound, is that what you're talking about?"

Harry didn't answer, but rather took out the mirror, silencing it.

"Remus," he said to the reflection in the mirror. "Can you call again in ten minutes, we're just finishing lunch. Or whatever you call it when you contact me on this thing."

Remus grinned. "Sure."

Harry stowed the mirror again, and then looked at his friends' faces. "What?" He said.

"Er, Harry." Hermione began. "Why exactly were you mouthing at a mirror?"

"Oh," Harry said, realising he had forgotten to tell them about his conversation with Remus earlier, and then taking a spoonful of apple crumble from his steaming dish. "I'll explain when we've finished. Remus is going to call back in ten minutes."

"Um, what?" Ron asked again.

"I'll explain it later." Harry told them, now wolfing down his pudding.

After he had succeeded in hurrying his friends up, he led them out of the hall at a brisk walk, and found a disused classroom to explain what exactly the mirror was.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Well, you say the name of the person with the other mirror, and it lights up and emits a kind of whistling noise until it's answered." Harry told her.

She held out her hand for the mirror, which Harry gave to her, and he saw her mime into it, with an expression of slight scepticism. It quickly turned into one of surprise, and then the expression she usually had when she opened a new book for the first time.

She appeared to be talking into it for a minute, and then turned to them, "Can you really not hear what I'm saying?"

"Nope." Harry told her.

"I wonder how they did it." She asked, and then turned back to the mirror.

"How long do you think she'll be?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I heard women spend forever on the telephone."

"I heard that Harry!" Hermione yelled over to him.

"Shame that thing doesn't work both ways, and she can't hear what we say either." Harry said with a lopsided grin.

After a few minutes, Hermione handed Harry the mirror. "Remus wants to talk to you."

Harry looked into it – for a second all he could see was his own face – and then Remus reappeared. He walked away, letting Ron and Hermione talk between themselves out of earshot.

"So Moony, what did Dumbledore say?"

Remus still looked slightly worried. "Just that he didn't know why he did it, but not to worry about Snape having seen that part of the Prophecy, whatever it says. He said he'd investigate it as soon as he could, but in the meantime, not to be too concerned about it."

Harry could tell Remus wasn't convinced himself. "Is that all?" He asked, in disbelief. "He expects me to go to Potions now, and not worry about it?"

"You have Potions next?" Remus asked, looking troubled.

"Double." Harry told him.

"Well, whatever you do, don't allow yourself to be on your own with him. Make sure Hermione and Ron are with you at all times. If he tries to separate you, tell him to talk to me. It's better safe than sorry."

"Great."

"Harry, I don't like this either, but we have to trust Dumbledore. He's the only one of us that has any idea of the full picture here."

"I didn't trust Snape _before_ Sunday." Harry told him.

"Yes, and neither do I completely, but Dumbledore…" He hesitated, "Harry, Dumbledore is the person who keeps this fight against Voldemort going, he's the one who gives it some purpose. If we start to doubt him, the whole Order could fall apart."

Harry sighed. "I am not going to place blind trust in someone that invaded my mind, looking for the one thing that Voldemort wants from me above anything. Especially not someone who was an ex-Death Eater."

"I'm not asking you to Harry, just, trust Dumbledore. He'll sort it out."

Harry nodded.

"Could you pass the mirror back to Hermione?" Moony asked, "I want to make sure she and Ron keep an eye on you when Snape's around."

Harry handed it to her, and then told Ron what Remus had said.

"How can they still be saying to trust Snape?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I know. Although this time, it's trust Dumbledore rather than trust Snape."

"That makes more sense." Ron allowed. "But still!"

"I know." Harry said wearily.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Double Potions started exactly as Harry had expected, and then some. Snape looked more irate with Harry than ever, as he stood at the front of the class, staring down at them.

"Normally," He began, "there would be just three of you sitting in this classroom at this moment. However, your year has a never before seen ineptitude, which meant that out of a year of eighty students, only four received an Outstanding in either or both their Potion's practical or theoretical O.W.L.s, and only another sixteen received Exceeds Expectations. One twentieth of the year would have ordinarily been able to continue at N.E.W.T. level, and one of them has not returned to the school. You have surpassed any other year I have taught by your complete and utter lack of talent.

"Unfortunately, your year is not normal, is it? Because of the circumstances in our world at present, I have been –" He paused, before speaking the next word in a rather ugly voice, "persuaded – to relax my entrance conditions, and allow less able students in, rather than have such a small class. It appears that some of you," his eyes glittered on Harry's for a moment, "have considerably overachieved to even get this far, and others," and here his eyes were fixed menacingly at a table full of Slytherins, Malfoy at its core, "have underachieved, but no matter. Despite the lessened talent in this room to previous years, I shall expect the same very high standards I have always done. Live up to my expectations, or face the –" for the first time in his speech, his tongue slipped lovingly around a word, "consequences.

"Today's shall be a completely theoretical lesson, so open your books. The relevant sections in your textbook begin at page forty-seven, and continue on to page fifty-four of Advanced Potion-Making. Take this down."

Snape waved his wand at the board, where the words 'Discovering Antidotes to Unknown Poisons" wrote themselves in a thin, spindly script.

The lesson was torture, and Harry was sure Snape had planned it this way. A double lesson of pure theory and note taking was normally bad enough, but Snape had not even started them at the shallow end of theory, but rather dropped them in somewhere far out to sea. When he demanded that they complete questions in the textbook for the last half hour, Harry found himself staring at the paper, whose words were blurring into each other. To make matters worse, Snape was forever looming around them, putting pressure on Harry in particular.

Just as he felt he had started to make some headway on the second question (describe, in detail, the steps necessary in order to reduce a compound poison into its formative parts) Snape bent down close to Harry's ear.

"The Ministry may have decided that your Outstanding Recognition in Defence Against the Dark Arts gives them the right to force my inclusion of you into this class, Potter, but I warn you, no matter which of your fan club you turn to for help next time, if you do not produce work of what I consider to be a high enough standard, you shall find yourself with some more free time on your hands."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do not play dumb with me, Potter. I know quite well that the Ministry offered to aid you in your mistaken belief that you are of the required standard to be an Auror, and I am equally well aware that you let them know you wished to take Potions." Snape snarled.

"I didn't – and how do you know what was on my results parchment?" Harry said angrily.

"Because," Snape said coldly, "I am the only person alive today, that was granted an Outstanding Recognition in Potions." He rose, and stalked away.

Snape's terrible temper did not improve throughout the lesson, and today, unusually, his ire was directed at (if not evenly) the six Slytherins as well as the other members of the classroom – four Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, and five Ravenclaws. Two additional Hufflepuffs, and one Ravenclaw that had made the entrance requirements, had, as Snape had put it, 'not returned to the school'. Indeed, his displeasure was such, that after he had collected the class work at the end of the lesson, he had ordered the Slytherins to stay behind, and thereby nullified Harry and Remus' fears that he might seek a private meeting with Harry.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to leave the class, and they lingered momentarily around the door, wishing they could hear what was being said, until Ron produced from his robes, three pairs of Extendable Ears.

"Where did you get those?" Hermione asked in astonishment.

"Bought them off Fred and George," Ron told her, "I thought–"

"Never mind that now, let's just use them." Harry hissed.

They fed the strings towards the door, and then backed into a shadowy alcove along the dungeon corridor.

"– think you have no need to study very hard because of the Dark Lord's reappearance." Snape was saying angrily, "Some of you may even think that connections will assure you of good favour, but you should think again. Do you honestly believe that uneducated wizards will earn His favour? By not applying yourself to your studies, you are an insult to all that the great Salazar Slytherin stood for, and to the Dark Lord, his direct descendent. Do you truly wish to kneel before Him and say that you know less magic than a mere Mudblood?

"This is the first year I have ever taught that has failed to produce even one adequate potions brewer from my own house. We normally have several. I expect you all to prove yourself worthy in this coming year; there is not one of you here that shouldn't be achieving Outstandings in their Potions N.E.W.T.s, let alone their O.W.L.s. Do not disappoint me."

There was a scraping of chairs, but Snape had one final instruction. "Draco, wait behind please, the rest of you may go."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione recalled their Ears, much as they wished to hear what Snape wanted to say to Malfoy, and hastily set off upstairs.

"Snape is furious about our being allowed in his class, isn't he?" Ron said happily to Harry.

"Furious at me more like," Harry told him, "you know what he thinks I did?" He stopped. "You knew, didn't you?" He asked Ron.

"Knew what?" Ron sounded confused.

"Knew that the Ministry had forced Snape to allow students that got Exceeds Expectations into his class, because that meant I would get in? That was why you got so annoyed after McGonagall told us."

"I, well," Ron looked embarrassed, "well, yes I guessed, but can we forget about that, I was an idiot. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Why would the Ministry…?" Hermione asked.

"Because of the Outstanding Recognition. They promised to help me with any future career path I wanted in the field of Defence Against the Dark Arts, remember? I bet you anything McGonagall got onto them, and asked them for help. Oh well, at least I know why Snape is being such a b–"

"I doubt that's the only reason Snape let more people in, Harry." Hermione told him, cutting across him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was one of the people that got an Outstanding in Potions, and Terry Boot and Ernie McMillan were the others. Can you see Snape not bending his rules for his precious Slytherins, let alone Malfoy? He may act all annoyed about 'being forced' to change his rules, but I bet you he's really quite glad." Hermione told him in a rather satisfied tone.


	13. Darkness and Light

_A/N:__ I think I had probably better adjust the statement I said before about not using anything in HBP... If there's one thing I despise, it is making up names of characters, especially minor ones... so I may steal some of JKR's names there... Hey! It all adds to making sure it fits in her universe, right?_

_A/N: One of the things I had planned that JKR included comes up here. You'll know it when you read it._

* * *

**Chapter 13: Darkness and Light**

By Wednesday, Harry was starting to feel as if he had hardly been away from Hogwarts. They had picked up where the O.W.L.s had left off, with tough lessons, and just as hard, time consuming, homework being heaped upon them. The free lessons that they now had, however, were working wonders in lessening the load, as was the fact that he had avoided getting detention every day of the week, unlike at the start of last year. The only change was really the spells that they were being taught, or, in the case of Herbology, the plants that they were dealing with. The things that they were learning were now beginning to demand maturity, and a brand of respect, that would prevent misuse of these newer, more powerful pieces of magic. Harry couldn't help feeling that some people, like Malfoy, would abuse this trust the moment they got the chance.

Two things in particular that they were told Wednesday morning served to reinforce this feeling of added trust, and to cause the students to put their heads down and prove they were willing to work hard. The first was in Transfiguration, when Professor McGonagall told them that Apparition lessons would be beginning in October, and that the work they were doing now, with Manifesting, and Conjuring spells, would give them an advantage over other students attempting to apparate for the first time. The second, no one was completely sure about how it had spread; someone, and people were adamant it was a person who should be in the know, had mentioned that the Charms students would be learning how to create Portkeys this year.

Harry's year had possibly never applied themselves more to their studies.

Harry's mood personally, was given a bit of a boost at lunchtime. Ginny had decided, that rather than sitting with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and the others that she had joined for the week so far, she would instead rejoin Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Has something happened between you and Dean?" Harry asked, concerned.

"No." Ginny said firmly. Ron looked rather disappointed.

"Then–"

"Dean is not going to make me choose between him, and my friends and family." Ginny told them, and no one that heard her could doubt her words.

"How is Dean?" Hermione asked her.

"He's okay. Hasn't talked about what Malfoy said on the train at all really, except to ask me why I told you about what had happened to his family, which of course I hadn't. And no, I didn't tell him how you knew, Harry."

"I didn't expect you to." Harry said, quite honestly.

The three of them filled her in with what had happened so far this week, quietly discussing Snape, and talking about Aravenne in far louder tones when Neville appeared, fresh from his Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and sat down beside them.

"How's Hagrid?" Ron asked him.

"Oh, he's okay." Neville told them. "We're doing Aethonan Horses at the moment."

"What are they?" Ginny asked.

"Winged horses," Hermione answered for Neville, "like the ones the Beauxbatons had, but smaller."

"Or Thestrals, but less creepy." Neville told them, forgetting that Harry was the only other one there who had seen them. "He's planning on getting Granians, and then Abraxans too, and getting us to tame them. Hagrid says that he wants us to compare them."

"So no Chimeras, or more Blast-Ended Screwts, or Giants, or anything yet?" Ron asked (to a kick from Harry at the word 'Giants'). "Typical, he starts to get _less_ dangerous animals when we stop doing the subject."

"Have you any idea how big Abraxan Horses are?" Neville asked nervously.

Harry lost track of the conversation after that. Dean had just walked in the doors to the Great Hall, and his eyes had locked with Harry's. He sat down as far away from them as he possibly could. Still, even if Dean decided to stay away from Harry, at least it didn't look like he'd lose Ginny as a friend too.

The afternoon continued with a free period, and then Potions, and, as they expected, Snape continued to pile on the torture. Despite the fact they were still doing theory, and for much of the class Snape was lecturing them, he still had the amazing ability to single Harry out while lecturing. In the main, it consisted of carefully placed accents on wordings, and an accusing gaze in Harry's direction, while pointing out possible pitfalls, but occasionally he threw in some on the spot questioning about things that nobody knew (except Hermione, and even then not always), but Harry alone got the questions, and then abuse. As usual, Harry was one of the first to leave the class at the sounding of the bell.

"I don't get it." Harry said, grinding his teeth, as they waited for Professor Sprout to appear for their last class of the day. "Is he going to keep this up for every single Potions class?"

"I doubt it," Ron said, in an effort to cheer Harry up, "he has to get bored after a while."

"Five years and counting." Harry told him.

"He probably thought, like you did, that last year was going to be your last in Potions class." Hermione told him.

"It's not funny." Harry told her through his teeth.

"I know it isn't, Harry, but look at it this way," Hermione told him, in a bracing tone, "he seems to like you being in Potions as much as you do."

Harry just looked at her in exasperation.

"Right then chaps!" Professor Sprout's cheerful voice rang out as she entered the greenhouse. "Greenhouse seven today, you will need your dragon hide gloves, and your wands."

Harry saw Neville's eyes light up, they had only very rarely entered Greenhouse seven, as it contained some of the rarer and more dangerous plants in Hogwarts. It was perhaps unlike Neville to seek out danger, but then maybe his love of plants was a little similar to Hagrid's love of magical creatures – it did not particularly worry him if they were dangerous or not. Harry peered through the door gingerly, before following the teacher and Neville through the doorway; he seemed to remember a particularly hungry carnivorous plant known as a _narcissus avidus_ that liked lurking close to the entrance. This time, however, the giant yellow flowers that signalled its presence were nowhere to be seen.

"Today," Professor Sprout said, leading them through the greenhouse, to an area they had never been in before, "we shall tend a plant we have only mentioned in passing before."

Harry stopped immediately he spotted what they were approaching, to the complaint of Ron behind him, who quickly shut up, once he saw the thing Harry had.

"Come a bit closer boys, let everyone have a look." Professor Sprout told them.

The rest of the class were quite interested in the vines of the plant that spread out from its stalk (which resembled more of a trunk), but Harry, Ron, and to some extent, Hermione, wanted nothing to do with this blast from the past. Harry and Ron stood a few steps behind Hermione, who was at the back of the crowd.

"Come on boys, come on." Professor Sprout said impatiently, "It won't harm you if you listen to me."

Harry looked at Ron, who had an apprehensive look on his face. He also happened to have a petal, from the _narcissus avidus_, stretching out towards his shoulder. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and walked forward, next to Hermione.

"Good, now can anyone tell me what this is?" Professor Sprout asked.

Ron put up his hand slowly; Hermione's had shot up like a rocket.

"Mr Weasley?"

"It's Devil's Snare." He said, warily.

"Quite so, take five points for Gryffindor. And why should you approach it with caution?"

"Because it's bloodthirsty, and will strangle you if it gets the chance, squeezing tighter and tighter the more you struggle, unless you scare it away with fire." Ron said fervently.

"Indeed, apart, of course, from the suggestion that it is bloodthirsty. Devil's Snare in fact does not actively seek animals as prey – we only have to worry about its defence – although it will seek out other plants for food, so care must be taken when growing it, as to where it is allowed to flourish. Devil's Snare is considered very precious, despite its dangers, can anyone tell me why? Mr Longbottom?"

"Its fibres are really strong." Neville said. "It's nearly the only thing that can be used when making clothes from Dragon skin."

"Exactly, and it is even more necessary for anything made from Graphorn hide. Take five points." Professor Sprout said, beaming at possibly her favourite student in Harry's year.

She soon directed the students to divide up into groups of four (Harry, Ron, and Hermione teamed up with Neville, which in Herbology was always quite useful), and then directed them to prune the plant, harvesting its vines to be refined into exceptionally strong threads. This involved freezing the appendage they were going to attack, which, in theory at least, relaxed the plant into a near unconscious state, preventing it from feeling any pain, and stopping it from fighting back. One of them then had to cut the vine with the Serate spell; two of them drag the vine away from the plant, while it continued to wriggle, and attempt to squeeze them (despite the fact that it had been cut away from its main body); and the third had to cover the wound with a brownish paste, while it reacted to the loss of its limb. (Thankfully Neville volunteered for that, and talked to it gently, while he covered it carefully in the sticky goo.)

"Done!" Neville called to them happily – he was enjoying himself.

Harry and Ron, however, were still struggling with the long, green, wriggling piece of plant, attempting to stow it in the large magically enhanced bag they had been given for the purpose of storage. Hermione was standing close by, wand in hand, in case she had to conjure fire to quieten the burden. She had started off being closer to Neville, in case he got entangled by the rest of the plant, but soon found that he was not the one that needed any back-up. Harry had no idea how Neville was able to cope so easily with the live thing, and yet they struggled with the dead part.

"Okay." Harry sighed, pushing back his fringe, and wiping away the dirt and sweat.

Hermione chose another one for freezing, and then made a slicing motion with her wand, enunciating clearly, "Suh-rah-tay!"

Neville helped Harry and Ron start to drag the newly separated limb away from the rest of the body of the plant, and, immediately he let go to tend to the seeping wound, Harry and Ron started to struggle again.

"I need a break." Ron said, as Hermione's fire scared away their burden (which had just been attempting to strangle the redhead). "You give Harry a hand, and I'll cut the plant, then I can switch with Harry."

"What about Neville?" Hermione asked.

"He's having the time of his life," Ron said sagely, "leave him be."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Although Herbology would normally have been the last class of the day, today was also the first lesson for Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, and so after a quick shower and clean up, they found themselves in Aravenne's classroom again, with quite a large amount of enthusiasm. The Advanced class was far smaller than the normal one, with only the most successful students in Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s being allowed in. This, Harry was pleased to see, included a host of DA members, Parvati Patil, and Dean from Gryffindor, Ernie McMillan, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones had all reached required grades from Hufflepuff, Terry Boot and Parvati's twin, Padma, were two of a number of Ravenclaws, which meant that ten of the seventeen students had been involved in the resistance movement against Umbridge.

Harry was, however, disappointed to see that Malfoy had been successful enough to enter the class too. He had hoped that Malfoy, who by all accounts had been more interested in the outside world than his O.W.L.s last year, might have been unable to take this class. Still – his father probably had enough contacts to force Malfoy's inclusion despite being known as a Death Eater. His love of surrounding himself with fawning idiots, however, was emphasised, by the fact that neither of the two other Slytherins in the class were part of his gang. Crabbe and Goyle were repeating many of their O.W.L.s, to Ron and Harry's delight (although they were taking a couple of N.E.W.T. level courses).

Aravenne came in through the door casually, twirling his wand in his wand hand, as was his wont.

"Ah." He began, as he stood behind his desk. "Here we have the best of the best, as it were, when it comes to Defence Against the Dark Arts. All of you achieved very high marks when it came to your O.W.L.s, so, tell me: What is Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

The question was met with blank faces. What was Defence Against the Dark Arts… well, wasn't it obvious?

"Anyone?" Aravenne continued, with a slight smile, as if he knew what the class were thinking. "How about you, Moon?"

A Ravenclaw boy, Robert (pronounced 'Robair') Moon looked at him rather nervously. "Um, well, it's… it's defending yourself against well, the Dark Arts, you know, against Dark Wizards and Dark Creatures, isn't it?"

The Professor grinned, appreciating the humour. "Yes, I guessed it might be defending yourself against the Dark Arts, but let's be a bit more specific, what exactly do you understand as the Dark Arts?"

This time Harry put up his hand, trying to answer this seemingly simple question.

"Yes Mr Potter?" Aravenne asked.

"Well, the Dark Arts – it's, it's when people or creatures use dark magic, trying to hurt you or other people, isn't it?" Harry suggested, watching his teacher for a sign that he was on the right track. "And Defence… it's trying to stop them."

Aravenne's head swayed from side to side, as if weighing up what Harry had said. "We may be getting there." He said slowly. "So, what is dark magic then? Let's try and get this down to its most basic description, we've gone from Defence Against the Dark Arts, to the Dark Arts, to dark magic. If there is dark magic, I can assume you would all agree that there would also have to be a classification of magic known as light magic?"

There were murmurings of assent, which Aravenne nodded to. "So we have light magic, and dark magic, which we have to describe, is there any other type of magic we need to deal with?"

Hermione put up her hand, "What about a spell like Lumos? That isn't really dark or light magic, is it?"

"Indeed, so shall we make a third branch? Called… neutral magic, say?"

Aravenne waved his wand towards the blackboard, and three columns appeared, respectively headed by the words: 'LIGHT', 'NEUTRAL', and 'DARK'.

"Is that okay with everyone?" He asked, to the class that were nodding, unsure as to where this was leading. "Right, can somebody give me a spell they would classify as 'dark magic'? Mr Malfoy?"

The Slytherin was eyeing the proceedings contemptuously, as if this was pointless, and he didn't know why he had bothered coming. "I don't know," he said lazily, "how about… Falxia?"

Aravenne nodded, and the word 'Falxia' appeared under the column of DARK. "Falxia, the scything spell, often accompanied by bright light, the redder the light, the more powerful the spell is. It is often improved, if that is the right word, into the very dangerous Falxiardor spell, which combines the cut with fire. Would everyone agree this was a spell that deserves to be described as dark?"

There was a murmur of assent, and Ron whispered to Harry, "Trust Malfoy to know a spell like that."

"Mr Weasley," Aravenne said, continuing, "perhaps you would like to offer up a piece of light magic?"

"Um… well, what about the Patronus charm?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Good choice." Aravenne said, eyes staying on Ron for a few seconds, "The Patronus charm produces a form of pure energy, representing all the happy feelings in your heart, most often used to protect from Dementors, or Lethifolds. Any arguments against its placement as a light spell?"

As the class shook their heads, he added it to the blackboard in the relevant column, he also added Lumos underneath neutral spells.

"Good. We have a set then, a dark spell, a light, and a neutral spell. Let's just make sure we understand why which is which. Miss Patil – Parvati," he amended, "why is Falxia a dark spell?"

"Because it's meant to cause harm?" she answered hopefully.

Aravenne nodded, "Patronus, then… Padma Patil this time."

"It's meant to defend the caster?" The twin replied.

"Excellent, and Lumos, then, Mr Macmillan."

"Because it isn't meant to attack or defend." He replied confidently.

"Very good. Now I'm going to explain to you why I believe you're all wrong." He laughed, but not maliciously. "Let us remember our reasoning for a spell being dark or light magic. We said that if it is designed to cause harm it is dark, and if it is designed to prevent harm it is light. Shall we take Falxia then? Shall we suppose that you discover an innocent person tied up, in a situation where he will be tortured? You then use Falxia to cut his bonds, so that he can escape. You have just, therefore, used supposedly dark magic, to prevent harm; but by our reasoning that means it is light magic rather than dark. So it should be… here:"

He waved his wand, and Falxia appeared under Patronus on the board. Confused faces stared up at him. More than one student started to speak, but 'but' was the only word they managed to produce.

"Are you saying that Falxia isn't dark magic sir?" Hermione asked, the most composed of them all.

"Not at all. In the majority of situations nowadays, I would agree that Dark Wizards use the spell, and therefore it is often performed as dark magic. What I would like you to do however is challenge the assumption that magic can be categorised. Magic is neither good nor evil; it is only its usages that can be classified as Dark or Light. Shall we take the Patronus charm, surely one of the purest, most 'Light' forms of magic there is? How would you classify it, if a Dark Wizard used it to herd a large group of Dementors towards a group of Muggles, who have no ability to ward them off? I have seen it happen, and it is one of the darkest pieces of magic I've ever experienced."

Patronus then appeared underneath the column headed: 'DARK'.

"So you're saying that Falxia is neutral magic too, sir?" Dean asked, not following the reasoning.

"Yes Mr Thomas. Imagine, for a second, performing the spell in thin air, with no purpose, and hitting nothing. Was that a protective, or a harmful spell? Of course not! Similarly the Patronus – although it can become more complicated with that particular spell," He allowed, "the same principle remains, regardless. Likewise, normally neutral spells can be used in dark or light manners."

Another wave of the wand, and all three columns now contained all three spells.

"So you think that a spell like Lumos is dark magic?" Draco Malfoy sneered.

"What I am saying, Mr Malfoy," Aravenne said in a clear voice, "is that all magic is neutral, and that it is only their usages that can be classified as being part of the Dark Arts, or Light Arts. I am sure that you can come up with situations where even a simple spell like Lumos can be cast with intent to harm, or protect. If it is not the spell however, but rather you believe that your Professor's teaching methods are not worth considering, the door is over there."

Malfoy said nothing, and Aravenne continued, leaning over his desk and giving them all a hard look. "If you are to take this class, I expect full maturity from each and every one of you. A subject like this is far too dangerous to be treated irreverently. You may find some of my theoretical ideas hard to grasp, or you may disagree with them – that is fine by me, theory is meant to be questioned, and then refined to produce the truth – but I do expect you to listen, and consider the underlying ideas. If any of you think you already know all the answers, then you have no business being here."

There was silence, the insolence was wiped off Malfoy's face, and Aravenne drew himself back up to a standing position. "Good. Now, are there any other questions?"

Harry noticed that he hadn't had to even take points of a house so far this year, and yet he was treated with a respect for discipline that rivalled Professor McGonagall or Snape. Even Malfoy backed down before him without needing proof of the trouble it might land him in.

Hermione raised her hand again. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Sorry sir, but how can the Unforgivables be anything other than the Dark Arts?"

Aravenne gave a smile. "Ah yes. The Unforgivables, three of the most dangerous spells in existence, although not necessarily the most. The fact, however, that they are dangerous, does not automatically mean that they are Dark Arts. Do any of you know what a Nundu is?" He asked.

The class shook their heads, so Aravenne continued. "I met one of them while I was in East Africa, or rather; I saw a hunting party out looking for it, and they eventually successfully killed it. A Nundu looks rather like a gigantic leopard, but is more dangerous than a Chimera, more dangerous than a Dragon; its very breath causes disease on a huge scale. It has never been successfully hunted by fewer than a hundred skilled wizards, which will tell you much of the threat it represents. The three spells they use more than any in this hunt, are the Unforgivables, and yet they are attempting defence on the highest scale."

Harry could see his point, sort of. Was it really Dark Arts if it was used to prevent a Dragon from eating you? But Cruciatus… wasn't that just causing pain for the fun of it? What had Bellatrix Lestrange told him after he had tried to turn the curse on her? 'You need to enjoy causing pain'. Surely then, the only way you could cast it was if you were a Dark Wizard?

"But Professor…" He began, and then trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"Yes?"

"To cast something like Cruciatus… don't you… don't you have to enjoy causing the pain, to really want to torture them?"

Aravenne was suddenly alert. His fists clenched involuntarily. Harry could tell he was having difficulty controlling the level of his voice, even as he strove to keep it perfectly calm, the voice of a teacher in control.

"You know how to cast an Unforgivable Mr Potter?"

"I- No!" Harry said, almost in horror. _Me and my big fat mouth._ "It's just… A Death Eater… told me."

Aravenne's narrowed eyes started to relax a bit once more. "If it were not for the newspaper articles I have read over the last nine months, that statement would worry me just as much. However, I happen to have read them. I take it that it is not too much of a leap in reasoning to guess that you have felt its effects firsthand."

Harry looked away; Aravenne nodded. "I could understand why you would believe the Death Eater then. However, like any powerful magic, it is not good or evil that powers it, but rather the witch or wizard's magic ability. They must put their heart and soul behind the magic, yes, but that does not necessarily mean hate. No, a powerful wizard who wishes to fight the Dark Arts could use the spell just as well as a maniac."

"But how?" Harry asked, "How can a spell like that be used on a person as a force for good? It's more painful than anyone could imagine."

"I can think of examples where it, where any Unforgivable, can not be considered Dark. Take for example, a wizard that is threatening to kill. If you then use the Imperius curse to subdue them, or perform the Cruciatus curse in order to weaken them before stunning them, or even use the killing curse to prevent them from carrying out their aims… Can that truly be dark magic?

Again, Harry could, unwillingly, see the point. It was a bit like what Remus had said, wasn't it? It is the Death Eater's fault, rather than yours if you kill him. He, after all, is the one who will kill innocent people if you don't. He supposed that the Cruciatus curse even, in that kind of situation would be being used for good rather than evil. If you were able to cast it that was.

"Does that answer your questions? Miss Granger? Mr Potter?"

Harry and Hermione weren't the only ones that nodded.

"In the same way, healing spells which are designed to heal a person so that they can commit acts of atrocities must be considered Dark. Witches and wizards have fallen into the trap of trying to shirk responsibility for their own actions. It is not magic that is either good or evil, but rather the people themselves."

That, Harry agreed with. If you were to heal Voldemort, when he was about to be killed, you would be just as much to blame for the people Voldemort would kill after that.

"You may wonder why I am labouring this point. Well then, some of the spells I shall teach you in these lessons, if misused, may be considered Dark. Indeed, some of the spells that you shall be learning, you may also find used against you should you be misfortunate enough to have to duel a servant of the Dark Arts. Some of your parents may be concerned that you are learning spells of danger. Professor Dumbledore, however, agrees with me, not only in that you can not successfully defeat something that you cannot understand but also, that against certain opponents, such as Death Eaters, knowledge of these spells will help you survive, and defend yourself successfully. Defence against people such as Death Eaters is of course, exactly what this subject is about."

The class was completely silent, no-one willing to attempt to disagree.

Aravenne spent the rest of the lesson demonstrating the Falxia spell that Malfoy had mentioned, but more than that, demonstrating some of its weaknesses, and the best ways to defend against it. This may have been the first lesson that they had had with Aravenne that didn't involve action, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione left it once more, talking about the lesson they had just had.

"Okay, I give up." Ron said. "Is he trying to make us use the Dark Arts, or defend ourselves or what? This whole magic isn't Dark, people are stuff… Everyone knows Avada Kedavra is dark magic… it just… is!"

"He has a point though, doesn't he?" Harry said, looking at Hermione. "Or do I just want to believe him because" he looked around quickly, "of the Prophecy?"

"It does make logical sense…" Hermione said grudgingly, "but I don't know, there's just something about it I don't like. I prefer to think of it as it being possible to use Dark Arts for good as well as bad. I'm like Ron, I still don't know what to think of him yet."

"Well I still don't trust him." Harry said. "He talks about it being people that are evil, not magic, but maybe he just wants to get people to enjoy the feeling of using these spells."

"That's one way of looking at it." Hermione agreed. "You can't imagine that Dumbledore would let him teach after all that has happened since we've been at Hogwarts if he couldn't be trusted though, would you?"

"He still hasn't got rid of Snape." Ron reminded her.

Hermione, however, didn't take the bait, but rather rolled her eyes, and turned away with an expression that clearly said that she knew she was right, but knew better than to try to explain the multitude of reasons why, yet again. Thankfully, Ron wasn't looking at her, but rather was leading the way back to Gryffindor Tower, and thus, an argument was avoided.

Harry found that Ron's interest in the subject of Aravenne started to wane quite quickly this afternoon, before long he was talking about the Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, and what they should do. He talked incessantly about it during dinner, and then continued in the same vein until Harry went to bed, when he went to sleep thinking about nothing other than Quidditch. He forgot to take the Dreamless Sleep potion, but it didn't matter, for he dreamt about broomsticks, Snitches, Quaffles, and Bludgers all night. Even Sirius didn't make an appearance.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry finally succeeded in manifesting a mouse the next day in Transfiguration, and then groaned when he found that he couldn't manifest even a snail that Ron had vanished. Transfiguration had to be one of the most annoying subjects at Hogwarts, he felt. There were so many little bits and pieces that had to be performed perfectly, and it meant that unless you had Hermione's memory and concentration, learning anything tended to take an absolute age. Still, he took comfort in the fact that most of the class were having similar problems, and some, if not most, worse.

Charms was likewise proving to be tough, they had started doing basic healing charms, and helping the skin knit quickly was nowhere near as easy as Madam Pomfrey made it look. Even Hermione was having trouble mending a wound larger than the size of a fifty pence piece. Then of course there was the fact that you ran the danger of making everything far, far worse if you got it even slightly wrong. Often the life size mannequins that they were practicing on would squeal, signalling that the cut had suddenly increased in size, and one of Harry's attempts made it life threatening.

"I can't take much more of this," Ron told Harry and Hermione as they walked down the corridor from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall, "I'm starting to get a headache from all this concentrating. Knowing our luck, Aravenne will probably try and get us to learn the Unforgivables, and then Snape will demand that we make some impossible potion like…"

"Felix Felicis?" Hermione suggested, with a smile.

"I'll take your word for it that it's complicated, whatever it is." Ron said. "But seriously… what cruel person set us Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and then Potions in a row? I'm going to have to sleep through the free period so I'm okay for Quidditch this evening!"

"Who knows, Ron, we might be doing duelling again with Aravenne!" Harry laughed.

Ron gave a mock whimper.

Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't as bad as Ron had predicted however. Aravenne had decided that they needed practice shielding themselves from spells, and so the lesson for members of the DA was simply revision – none of the other students having been taught Protego by previous teachers. They were however set background reading for Effringo – the next type of shield that they were going to learn – for next Thursday's lesson. Tomorrow they were going to be dealing with more offensive spells, or so they were told.

Which just left Potions, and then Harry and Ron were finished for the day – although Hermione had Arithmancy. They entered Snape's dungeon classroom with Ron whispering in Harry's ear, in a slightly strained voice.

"This is your last class before the try-outs, so _please_ whatever you do, don't get detention!"

"You are – you're channelling either Oliver or Angelina's spirit. Or is that Quidditch Captain badge cursed?" Harry pointed at the badge sitting neatly beside Ron's Prefect badge. Indeed, more neatly than most things of Ron's ever were. "I think we should get Aravenne to take a look at it and see if it is dark magic." He grumbled.

"There is no dark magic, remember? Just dark usages." Ron sniggered, as they took their seats.

"Well maybe whoever created it created with a _dark usage_ then." Harry told him. "Give it a rest will you? I'll be there."

"You better be, I-"

"When Potter and Weasley have finished their discussion, we can begin." Snape's sneering voice rang out. "Five points from Gryffindor. Today we shall be seeing if any of you dunderheads have learnt anything from our theoretical lessons this week. I have here a poison none of you will recognise. I want you all to fill up a large flask with it, and then attempt to successfully find an antidote. Seeing as this potion is also dangerous when contacted by skin, you shall need to wear protective clothing – I have an antidote already made up, but I do not expect to need to use it. Am I understood?"

"That was your fault," Harry muttered to Ron, as the class took out their things noisily, "if he tries to put me in detention now, remember it all started from you lecturing me not to do anything."

"That was only seconds." Ron said disbelievingly. "He really has it in for you this year Harry."

"Congratulations." Harry said under his breath.

They may not have been brewing Felix Felicis, but this was just as complex, Harry felt. He scanned the pages of Libatius Borage's book trying to follow the instructions within, but it wasn't easy when you had Snape hovering nearby, sneering, and making near disbelieving noises whenever you did anything. It was made even harder, by the fact that Hermione's subtle hints and reminders, which so often had saved him in the past – to some extent – were made impossible by Snape's continued presence near Harry's potion.

"Tell me Potter," Snape said lazily, attracting the attention of the entire class, "Are you trying to make an antidote, or a poison to rival the strength of the one you have been given?"

"An antidote." Harry snarled.

"Sir." Snape amended.

Harry glared at him. Neither said anything for a few seconds, until a rather sharp kick to Harry's leg from Ron caused Harry to add, very quietly, "Sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he made no comment about Harry's lack of respect. "There is then little point of continuing with your current experiment. Try again, and this time, pay attention to your work."

He vanished the liquid in the vial Harry was currently working on – it had reached a black colour, and was looking a little similar to liquid tar. Or it was before it disappeared. Harry carefully poured one of the poisons he had separated from Snape's compound one, into a small vial, in order to start again. He held up his bottle of newt's stomach juices, feeling that he had made some progress with that previously, and allowed it to trickle into a vial, and then reached for some arrowroot, allowing a couple of carefully crushed pieces to drop into the juices.

Snape's voice intruded once more, mockingly saying. "Not only do you have no knowledge of magical ingredients and their properties, Potter, but you also obviously have an abysmal memory. Do you not remember that after you eventually separated the base poison: _putor minor_; with the _specialis revelo_ incantation, you tried the same combination of ingredients, and they failed miserably?"

"No, I forgot." Harry said coldly. "I –"

But Snape cut across the sarcastic remark he had been about to reply with – to Ron's delight, no doubt. "That is also useless, Potter. Try again."

The attempted antidote disappeared again, at the swish of Snape's wand. With a great effort, Harry tried to blank Snape out, and returned to work. He discovered an interesting thing, while working behind his cauldron, trying to prevent Snape from distracting him. Almost without realising it, he started using some of his Occlumency techniques in order to clear his mind, and think of nothing but the potion, thus shutting out all intrusions, and with a stab of surprise, Harry realised it was helping. Soon Harry had forgotten that Snape was even behind him at all, and it was only the loud bark behind him that snapped him out of his reverie.

"You have five minutes to bottle your final antidote, or attempt at one, clean your apparatus and store them away. Go. Now."

Harry looked at the blue liquid he had in his beaker, sent a silent prayer to anyone that was listening for it to be okay, and then carried his things to the workbench at the back of the classroom to be cleansed of the poisons they had contained. Harry carefully removed his gloves and placed them in a purging solution, the toxins of which effectively destroyed anything weaker than dragon hide – which meant that although it destroyed most poisons, it was inadvisable to drink it as an antidote.

Snape patrolled his class, taking each student's attempt, and mixing it with a little of the poison. If the ingredients successfully cancelled out the poison, then the liquids would swirl together, creating a clear, water like substance. While there were a few successes – a couple of Ravenclaws, Ernie Macmillan, a Slytherin or two – most of the mixtures failed, turning into colours which ranged from black, to pink, to putrid yellow. Due to the fact that Harry, Ron, and Hermione always tried to get the back table – in theory getting as far away from Snape as possible – theirs were the last three. Snape placed three beakers of poison in front of Harry – he was sitting in the middle.

Snape looked venomously at Harry. "Where is your antidote then Potter?"

Harry handed it to him without a word. He hadn't had time to test it, so hadn't the foggiest notion as to whether it was better or worse than the majority of attempts so far. Snape eyed it up carefully, delicately scenting the smell coming from it, which Harry thought smelt like furniture polish. Still wearing his own protective gloves, he slowly allowed a drop to flow into one of the beakers of poison, and then gradually the whole of the liquid slid in. Harry watched nervously; he didn't like the way Snape seemed to be making it more dramatic than the others.

The potions swirled together, one running into another. Its colour started to change gradually, from the violent green that was the poison, and the dark blue that was the antidote, into a vaguely silver kind of colour. Harry let out a sigh. It might not have been clear, but it was a damn sight closer than most of the other attempts by his fellow classmates.

"Are you satisfied with this attempt Potter?" Snape barked menacingly. "If you were to drink this poison now, then do you think that your antidote would be enough to save you?"

"No." Harry said, slightly defensively. "I just felt that it was an improvement, that's all."

"An improvement." Snape repeated disdainfully. "Potter, if you continue to just be satisfied with 'an improvement', you will soon find that Potions will no longer be part of your curriculum. Nothing suffices in my class except perfection, and you will produce it."

Harry said nothing, his momentary pleasure at producing what he felt was a more than reasonable attempt at finding an antidote for the first time subsiding in an instant. Snape said nothing else, but rather vanished the beaker, liquid and all, and held out his hand for Ron's antidote. Snape sneered as he saw the attempt, which was orange, and smelt of over ripe fruit, and then slowly lowered it to one of the two remaining beakers of poison. Nothing happened when the first drop hit the poison, and so Snape continued to pour.

It happened in an instant: the beaker cracked, and then – BOOM – it exploded. The mixture spilled out, flowing over the table in front of Harry. Snape hastily withdrew his wand in his free hand to vanish the dangerous liquid. Unfortunately, as he did so, his forearm struck the third beaker, which was full of untouched poison. It flew through the air, smashing against Harry's stomach, as he tried to push away from the original danger. The liquid seeped into his robes, and Harry felt the moisture touch his skin.

Snape was furious. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for allowing your ineptitude to endanger your classmates Weasley. I want a scroll and a half at least on proper methodology to brew an antidote by Monday." He spat, before turning on another student whose antidote had been particularly ineffectual. "The same goes for you Macarthur."

"Professor!" Hermione said anxiously. "Harry got splashed by the poison!"

Snape looked at Hermione with an expression of disbelief. "Thank you for pointing out the obvious Miss Granger. I am aware of the fact." He shook his head. "Luckily the effects of the poison take rather longer to cause any danger when absorbed by the skin than when imbibed. Potter, follow me, the rest of you may go."

Ron moved towards Harry, to attempt to help him out of his seat, but Snape said in a tone of pure fury. "I do not wish to have an epidemic on my hands Weasley, kindly do not touch Mr Potter, he is perfectly capable of following me on his own, he will not start vomiting for at least another five minutes."

Snape strode towards his desk, before turning once more. "Well Potter? I admit it is your own life you are risking by your reluctance to move, but I would rather not have to deal with the death of a student in my class. There is rather a lot of paperwork involved."

Harry stood up, and walked to the front of the class. Admittedly, he didn't feel poisoned yet. Snape conjured up a set of robes and undergarments out of thin air, and handed them to him, along with a vial of cyan coloured liquid.

"In there." He spat, pointing to a doorway. "Leave your clothes in the basket in there – they shall be returned to you once they have been cleansed – wash yourself down, put these on, and then, and _only_ then drink this." Snape rounded on the rest of the class, who were watching the scene interestedly. "I thought I dismissed you?"

Harry opened the door to find himself in a small changing room, obviously designed for such a purpose. A large basket stood beside a closed cubicle to a shower, opposite a bench. The scraping of the chairs and tables as he closed the door signalled that the students had finally done as Snape had ordered, and started to leave. Harry placed the conjured clothes on the bench, quickly stripped out of his own robes, and stuffed everything in the basket, before entering the shower, intending it to be one of the quickest he had ever had. There was nowhere he wanted to be less than near Snape at the moment.

Not long through the shower however, he doubled up in pain. His stomach felt like it was being ripped in two, and his head felt like it was starting to swell, getting heavier and heavier. The pain momentarily subsided, and Harry stumbled out of the shower, reaching for the antidote, and swallowing half of it in a huge gulp. He doubled up in pain again, somehow gripping the vial tightly, and preventing the rest of it from being spilled. His head, now between his knees, gradually started to return to normal size, but the furious pain in his stomach remained. He downed the rest of the potion in his hand.

He sat there for a couple of minutes, until the pain started to leave him. There was a loud knock on the door. It was Snape.

"Potter," The voice said snidely, "are you quite finished in there? I have another class to teach."

Harry was tempted to throw the empty vial at the door, but decided against it. He threw on the conjured clothes, and took a minute to catch his breath before making his way out the door.

A class of first years – Gryffindors and Ravenclaws it looked like – were sitting quietly, looking up to the front of the class where Ron and Hermione were standing, glaring at Snape, whose eyes were likewise narrowed with anger. Murmurings were extinguished by a glance from Snape almost as soon as the students recognised the famous Harry Potter emerge.

"Outside. All three of you. Now." Snape said in an angrily steady voice.

Snape showed the three of them the door, and then followed them out, shutting it behind him, waving his wand to prevent his class hearing anything. Harry suddenly noticed that Hermione and Ron had put themselves between him and Snape.

"I am telling you this once, and only once, all three of you. The werewolf does not teach in Hogwarts anymore. He has no authority. If I tell you to do something, you will do it in future, no matter what he says." There was suddenly a manic glint in his eyes.

"You think we're going to leave Harry with you after what you did the night of the Welcoming Feast?" Ron replied aggressively.

"Professor," Hermione said in a would-be calm voice. "Remus said to take it up with him and Professor Dumbledore if you have a problem with it, but we are not going to let Harry be in any danger if we can help it."

"Danger." Snape repeated. "I am a teacher, Miss Granger."

"A teacher that tried to find out the thing Voldemort wants to know above anything." Harry yelled at him.

Hermione and Ron turned to look at him, Hermione with an expression of shock on her face, "Harry, what are you-" She began in surprise.

"You fool, Potter," Snape sneered his interruption, "I saw nothing that I did not already know. Hadn't you realised? Couldn't you see why I knew exactly where to look? Merlin Potter, how you have survived as long as you have is beyond me. But very well, I shall take this up with Albus and the werewolf, and I shall expect your obedience Granger and Weasley in future."

He turned, slamming the door behind him. Harry looked at Hermione, who was pulling him along the corridor.

"Why did you…?"

"I had to try to make Snape think Ron and I knew nothing about the prophecy, Harry." Hermione told him, "I thought it would be safer. Now come on!"

Ron's face was crimson. "Harry, I'm really sorry mate, I didn't mean… I didn't know… Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Harry said absentmindedly, refusing to budge.

"Come on Harry!" His feet started to move unwillingly.

His mind was churning over what Snape had just said. _He had seen nothing he didn't already know_? _Hadn't Harry realised?_ _What should Harry have realised?_

"Harry, let's go!" Hermione said urgently, still tugging at him, trying to move his reluctant feet a bit faster.

_He knew exactly where to look. How could he know exactly where to look? Unless… unless… he knew some of the memory already. And if he knew some of the memory, then…_ Suddenly, it clicked. Harry stopped allowing himself to be shepherded up the corridor. How else could Snape know?

"That ba- The little- I'm going to kill him." Harry breathed, and fought off Hermione's grip on him, turning around.

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked in a terrified voice.

"How else could he have already known that part of the Prophecy? The bit that Voldemort knew? Ron let me go!"

"What are you doing mate?" Ron asked nervously.

"He was Voldemort's spy!" Harry roared. "He's the reason Voldemort knew part of the Prophecy! He eavesdropped on Dumbledore, and then told Voldemort that I – that – He's the reason Voldemort killed my parents! I'm going to kill him!"

He struggled against Ron and Hermione, who had both grabbed him, until suddenly he felt a surge of energy well up inside him, and he flung them off him. He ran back up to the door to Snape's dungeon, and tried to turn the knob. It wouldn't move. He withdrew his wand as Hermione and Ron got back to their feet and sprinted after him.

"Harry, no!" Hermione shouted.

"Alohomora!" Harry yelled.

The spell glanced off the door and ricocheted away to hit the wall behind Harry. Harry panted, trying to decide the best way to get through the door.

"Screw it," he muttered aloud, "I'll just destroy the damn thing. Reducto!"

Again, the curse just reflected off the door, this time going directly towards Harry.

"Mutucutus!" Hermione shouted, and a large barrier formed between Harry and the curse, which dissipated upon contact.

"Harry – you try to do this, and you'll be expelled, and you know what that means?" She said, as Ron stood between him and the door. She gripped Harry's shoulders. "It means you won't be able to defend yourself against Voldemort. It means you won't be able to avenge anyone. None of us know enough to fight his Death Eaters and win on our own, let alone Voldemort!"

Harry forced away her hands. "You know what he's done to my life?" He asked powerfully. "He, Pettigrew, and Voldemort? They cost me my parents, Sirius – they forced me to live with the Dursleys, Hermione! I haven't had a life because of Snape!"

"And you won't if you attack Snape!" Ron said bluntly. "If you want to try and kill Snape, you're going to have to kill me and Hermione first. You'll end up spending your life in Azkaban or something, until You-Know-Who decides to kill you. I'm not going to let that happen."

"Get out of the way, Ron."

"No." Ron told him. "Not unless you put your wand away, and walk back up to Gryffindor Tower with us."

Harry stood there, looking at him, panting. "Fine." He said, raising his wand. "I'll make you then."

Ron put his own wand away, and just stood there, between Harry and the door. He made no effort to defend himself. Hermione said nothing; neither did she move to stand between Ron and Harry herself.

Harry's wand pointed at Ron unsteadily. Why didn't he cast a spell! Get Ron out of the way, and then deal with Snape. For what seemed like minutes, there was no sound apart from Harry's rapid breathing. It would be so much easier if Ron drew his wand, making it a fair duel.

"Draw your wand, Ron. If you're going to fight me, I want it to be a fair fight."

Ron shrugged. "There's no point. You'd win. You're way better than me at duelling, you know that. If you're going to curse me, then just do it."

Harry stared at him, emotions bubbling inside him. He fought back a burning sensation behind his eyes, gulped, and then very slowly, lowered his wand. "I can't." He said, shaking his head, and then turning to the side.

Hermione finally moved. "Come on Harry, let's go up to Gryffindor Tower. I'll borrow your mirror and tell Remus what's happened. He wanted to know if Snape did anything. We'll get this sorted out, I promise, Dumbledore won't let Snape get away with this."

"Dumbledore knew." Harry said quietly. "He told me that he discovered the spy before he could hear all of the Prophecy. That's why he said it didn't matter when he heard the part of the prophecy that Snape had discovered. It's because he knew that Snape already knew it. Dumbledore doesn't care that Snape did that."

Suddenly, he despised the Headmaster, and he knew it wasn't a problem with his Occlumency this time. How could he? How could Dumbledore stick up for Snape, even force Snape on him as a teacher, when he knew what Snape had done? When he knew that Snape was one of the biggest reasons that he, Harry, was an orphan? How could he stick up for Snape every time he did something to Harry, ask Harry to treat the greasy haired piece of scum with _respect_, when he knew… he knew that Snape had done something which could never been forgiven?

Harry found himself dragged through corridors bathed in sunlight, filled with portraits which seemed to be doing their best to get a good look at him as he passed. Many of which followed him into their adjacent portraits, going as far as they could, until they invaded the wrong painting, and were beaten back, prevented from following any further. They had almost reached the portrait hole, when the unwelcome sight of Peeves the Poltergeist popped into view as they turned a corner.

"It's Potter the poisoned!" He said cheerily, and then burst into song.

"_There was a madman named Potter,  
__Who started to feel hotter and hotter,  
__He felt his blood boil,  
__Like scalding hot oil,  
__So he attacked the poison's creator!" _

Harry felt his temper boil over once more, and yelled at the Poltergeist. "Get lost Peeves!"

"Oooh!" Peeves said, cackling, "The Potty-one is feeling a bit-"

But Peeves stopped speaking. His mouth closed involuntarily, and his cheeks were expanding as though they were being filled with air from a car pump. The Poltergeist felt his now oversized head for a few long moments, unable to stop the swelling, then, his mouth opened, and Peeves found himself flying down the corridor, and out of sight, like a balloon that had just found somewhere for the hot air inside to escape. He didn't return.

"Wow, Harry!" Ron said in admiration, "How did you do that? You didn't even use your wand!"

Harry shrugged, and continued walking towards Gryffindor Tower. "No idea."

"Invalesco animi." Hermione said, as they stopped in front of the Fat Lady.

She swung open, saying. "Are you feeling quite alright, Harry dear? I heard you were poisoned? Shouldn't you be in the Infirmary?"

"I'm fine." Harry mumbled. That was one of the problems of the portraits in Hogwarts, news tended to travel relatively quickly.

They walked into the thankfully empty common room, and Harry sat down heavily in a chair. "The mirror's in my trunk." He told Hermione. "I'll get it for you in a second."

Hermione and Ron sat down, on the edges of their seats. Harry felt a bit of irrational irritation stir up inside of him. "I'm not going to do anything stupid now." He told them. "You stopped me remember. Relax. You look like I'm going to jump up and start cursing the next person that comes in the door."

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, slightly timidly.

"Of course I'm not!" Harry told her. "How do you think I feel after finding out that Snape sent Voldemort after me and my parents?"

To his surprise, Hermione smiled.

"It's nothing to grin about." He said angrily, and the smile swiftly vanished.

"I'm sorry Harry, I wasn't smiling about that." Hermione said quickly. "It's just… I was afraid you wouldn't talk about it, but just let it make you feel worse and worse. I was smiling because you're going to be alright." She finished simply.

"How do you figure th- Oh forget it." Harry said in resignation.

The three of them were silent for a while. Harry could almost see words being formed by his friends' mouths, and then discarded as they searched for the right way to phrase their concerned questions.

"If Snape does anything – anything – that proves he's a Death Eater, then I'm going to be the one to kill him Hermione." He looked her squarely in the eyes.

"Just make sure he is, Harry." Hermione pled. "You wouldn't be able to take it if you killed an innocent man, even Snape."

"Snape's hardly innocent, even if he isn't a Death Eater." Harry snapped.

"Look, Harry…" Ron interjected. "You need to do something to take out some frustration. How about you and me take a couple of Beaters bats down to the Quidditch pitch, and take a few swings at some Bludgers?"

"Ron –" Hermione began in what sounded like exasperation, and then she stopped, and shook her head in disbelief.

"I dunno." Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure I feel like Quidditch."

"It'll do you good." Ron continued. "You know, fresh air, exercise. Maybe take your mind off things for a bit. And if not, you can always pretend the Bludger looks like Snape's head." He added as an afterthought.

"That could be therapeutic." Hermione said drolly.

"Might as well I guess." Harry said. "It's either that or sit here and be continually asked about that s- about Snape poisoning me, isn't it?"

"Whatever makes you feel better." Hermione said, but in a voice which suggested she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "Could you get the mirror for me before you go though?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Quidditch, while it didn't make Harry forget about Snape, did give him time to think. There was nothing that he could really act upon from this knowledge – not yet, anyway. Dumbledore already knew about Snape's familiarity with the start of the Prophecy, and he still trusted him, and until Dumbledore stopped trusting Snape, there was no way Harry could do anything to the person who had caused Voldemort to attempt to kill Harry's parents. In fact, all that Harry could take from it was another reason to hate Snape.

He swung the Beater's bat at the one Bludger that Ron and he were hitting between them, and the impact hit the club out of Ron's hands, as he tried to hit it back. Ron swooped to reclaim the weapon, dodging the Bludger as he did. Harry hit it in the opposite direction.

"Damn, Harry, you don't want to play Beater as well as Seeker do you?" Ron asked, taking a swing at the ball himself.

"You told me to imagine it was Snape's head." Harry said, half-apologetically.

"Well, I take it back." Ron yelled, avoiding the Bludger that Harry sent at him this time, rather than trying to hit it. "Hang on. Impedimenta."

He had withdrawn his wand from his pocket, and aimed it at the Bludger. It froze in mid-air. Ron flew towards Harry.

"Look, mate. If you don't want to be at the tryouts tonight, you don't have to. If anyone wonders where you are, I can always just tell them you're recovering from that poison of Snape's."

Harry looked at him for a second or two. "Nah – I promised you I'd give you a hand."

There was a flicker of something like relief on Ron's face, but it was quickly replaced by concern once more. "You sure? It's fine if you don't – I mean – don't do it just because I asked you to make sure you were there. I wasn't expecting something like this to happen, you know."

Harry shook his head, and gave a wan smile. "Positive. Besides, I need to get to know the people I'll be playing with, anyway, don't I?"

Besides, in a strange way, the fact that Ron had actually suggested that he didn't go, despite all of his fears about his first duty as captain, made Harry want to do it. Harry didn't understand it himself.

"Thanks. Look, I was thinking we'd both have a look at Chasers first, then Beaters, and finally while you had a look at anyone who turns up for reserve Seeker, I deal with finding a reserve Keeper with the help of the new Chasers."

"With the way that Ginny flies, you might only be looking for someone to partner her and Katie." Harry told him.

"Hope so, I'm really in trouble if she isn't much suited to Chasing." Ron said nervously.

Harry could see what he was getting at, and tried to reassure him. "Relax – Ginny's a good flyer, and she comes from a family of good Quidditch players, mate. Even Fred and George were surprised by how well she flew."

"Hope so." Ron repeated.

They spotted Hermione making her solitary way down to the Quidditch pitch below them soon after, and Ron said to Harry, with a touch of something in his voice that Harry couldn't quite make out. "She missed her Arithmancy lesson for you, you know?"

Before Harry could do or say anything, Ron had swooped down to meet her. Harry froze the Bludger once more, and then followed.

"I just came down to watch you two." She was telling Ron, "Don't feel you have to stop."

"Hermione, you're a bad liar." Harry said, as he got off his Firebolt. "The only reason you ever went to watch Quidditch matches was because one of us or both were playing. You're just worried I might turn psycho and try and kill Snape, aren't you?"

Hermione went slightly red. "Don't be stupid. You're perfectly sane. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And…" She hesitated.

"And what?" Ron demanded.

"Well, I wanted to let you know that Remus is furious, I wouldn't want to be Snape tonight. He almost came to the school immediately I started to say what had happened, but I thought that that would be the last thing you'd want Harry." She looked at him anxiously.

"Just think what the rumours would be then…" He muttered. "Did you tell him about Snape knowing the Prophecy, and that he's why Voldemort came after us?"

"Well, I did, I told him the basics. And talking about rumours…" She trailed off again.

"What is it?" Ron urged.

"Well, I thought you ought to know, Harry. There's a rumour going on in the school, started by the portraits and Peeves of course."

"Which is?" Ron pressed.

"Well, that… that Snape poisoned you, and, well, that you threatened him. And that that was the reason Ron and I stayed behind, to stop you from doing anything."

To the surprise of all of them – including Harry – Harry laughed. Not heartily by any means, but yet still a true laugh.

"Er, Hermione, you are sure he's perfectly sane, aren't you?" Ron asked.

"Sorry," Harry said, laughter slowing a little. "It's just, well, I was wondering what would happen if Rita Skeeter heard. I just had this picture of a Daily Prophet headline, in big bold letters: **Death Eater Poisons Potter! Boy-Who-Lived Vows Revenge.**"

"Er. Okay." Ron turned back towards Hermione. "I say again, you are sure he's perfectly sane?"

Harry slapped the back of his head. "Prat."

"It is rather stupid, I know." Hermione agreed with Harry, "I mean, did you swear revenge after he poisoned you, or after you took the antidote? I can't see it lasting, I wouldn't worry about it, I just thought you should know."

Harry's momentary vision of the bright side faded however, and he said, more quietly. "Not that strange though, in a way, is it? I mean, think about what happened."

"You mean in that you did want revenge for something that Snape did?" Ron said.

"Yeah. Well, Yeah." Harry said, suddenly feeling rather silly, and not knowing why. After all, he had plenty of reasons for hating Snape. "You know, this is the first rumour they've made up about me that's been anywhere near the mark, and yet it's the stupidest one yet?"

Ron and Hermione offered weak smiles. Harry could tell they didn't know how to react. He shrugged it off and moved on.

"I told Ginny there'd be rumours about me this year, there always is, isn't there? Will they ever leave me alone?" He sighed. "It shows you though, doesn't it? We'd better make extra sure that we don't speak about anything important like the Prophecy unless we know for certain no one, or no thing can hear us. The portraits might hear something."

Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Seeing as you came down to watch us play Quidditch, Hermione," Ron said suddenly, obviously trying to lighten the mood, "you can take a fly on my broom."

"Er, Ron, we'd probably get rid of that Bludger first." Harry reminded him.

"Oh, right, Accio!" Ron struggled with the ball, pushing it back into its place in the box containing the Quidditch balls.

"No. Way." Hermione said decisively. "I swore that I would never get on a broomstick again."

Both of them, even Harry, enjoyed immensely the time they spent tormenting Hermione with their broomsticks before dinner.

It was probably a good thing that Harry had been warned about the rumour by Hermione, because he managed to look so disdainful whenever it was raised, that people soon stopped asking him about it directly. Hermione was a great help too, for she would snap at persistent questioners:

"Who do you think he got the antidote from?"

And retorts like that, although effective, Harry found himself more than loath to do. He had no wish to praise or thank Snape in any way, no matter how indirectly. Despite the forewarning, however, Harry got halfway through his dinner, before he pushed it aside. The more people looked at him, or asked stupid questions, or whispered about him, the tighter his stomach, the straighter his back, the more constricted his throat became.

"I can't take any more of this." He hissed to Ron. "I'll see you at Quidditch."

Ron took a reluctant last look at his plate, and pushed it away, "I'll go with you." He told Harry.

"I thought we'd agreed that I was still sane, and not going to try and kill Snape?" He whispered in frustration. "You don't have to chaperone me or something you know?"

"It's okay Ron, I'm not hungry." Hermione said brightly. "You finish up your dinner. I'll head up with Harry."

"No, no, it's fine. Don't want to eat too much anyway, would weigh down the broomstick." He replied equally gaily.

Harry looked at them both with an expression of complete exasperation. They both looked back at him with completely innocent smiles; Harry didn't know whether to curse them or thank them.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The Quidditch tryouts went really well, Harry thought. Ron may have professed to be nervous, and to be fair, he did look a little scared before people started to arrive, but once he got into his stride, he seemed a natural. Ginny was superb as a Chaser, and it took no time whatsoever for her to seem an automatic choice for one of the two vacant spaces, regardless of the other applicants. Ron's first big decision as captain came with the choice for the third first choice Chaser however, there were two people who were by far a cut above the others. Demelza Robins, a third year, and Dean Thomas.

Harry, who had been surprised that Dean had showed up at all with the Seeker being none other than Harry Potter, the person he blamed for Voldemort's attack on his family, was also rather impressed from a Quidditch standpoint with how well he worked with the other Chasers – Ginny in particular – finding each other with unerring accuracy. Demelza was very lithe on the other hand, and the way she moved when dodging Bludgers, and the angles she shot from, were both signs of a good player.

"What do you think?" Ron asked Harry. "It's either Dean or Robins. I'm thinking Robins."

"I dunno," Harry told him, "Dean is far better when it comes to teamwork; the way he and your sister combine is quite impressive."

"That's okay when they're still going out, but what if they break up?" Ron said, "I don't want the whole of the Quidditch team to fall apart because the players suddenly stopped snogging each other."

Harry grinned. "True." He allowed.

"I'm going to talk to Dean, I think I'm going to go with Demelza Robins, it's my gut feeling."

Harry put an arm out to stop him. "I don't blame Dean for being annoyed at me. Don't stop him being Chaser because of me. He can't mind being around me too much if he wants to be on the Quidditch team, anyway."

Ron looked at him. "My decision's still the same, Robins has more potential I think. Dean'll be first sub though."

Harry didn't know what it was Ron said to Dean, but it must have made complete tactical sense, because Dean seemed resigned rather than at all angry, and in fact, he tried out for the position of Beater as well. Some of the others didn't take rejection quite as well, despite the fact they were streets behind the three chosen Chasers (and Dean) in terms of ability. One seventh year in particular, a guy named Cormac McLaggen, who was so bulky, he looked bigger than Crabbe and Goyle put together, looked furious at being told he wasn't good enough. (He had earlier been heard boasting that he was a far better Keeper than Ron, and a better Seeker than Harry, and it was only because they were the Captain, and the Captain's best mate that he wasn't playing in either of the positions. He seemed, however, to believe that the reserve positions were 'beneath' him.)

It was in this second possible crisis that Ron once again came to the fore. The red faced, muscled, behemoth appeared just inches away from Ron's body, although luckily for Ron, he towered over the older boy, so McLaggen wasn't quite as intimidating as he had obviously intended to be.

He still snarled at Ron however. "You know quite well I was better than any of that lot flying out there. You just wanted to let your sister fly in the team, didn't you?"

"I picked the people I believed were best for the position McLaggen, you didn't make one of the reserves either. Now if you want to try for any of the other positions, I suggest you get out of my face."

The seventh year pushed Ron backwards with a grunt. "Fine, I'll show you what a real Beater is like then. I could probably teach you a bit about Keeping come to think about it."

"Actually, you know what?" Ron said, his ears going red, and walking towards him, "I can tell you right now that you won't be getting any of the other positions either. Anyone who wants in my team has to be more concerned about the team as a whole than themselves. That means you," He jabbed his finger at McLaggen's chest, "have about as much chance of getting on the team as a Slytherin."

The lout turned, and stormed back up to the castle, broomstick in hand. Harry noticed the rest of the team treated Ron with a new respect after that altercation.

Dean turned out to be a decent Beater as well as Chaser, and although Ron hesitated slightly, he agreed with Harry when he suggested him as one of the two Beaters. The other place was vied for between two boys, Ritchie Coote, and Jimmy Peakes. Coote looked rather wiry, and a bit of an ill build for a Beater, especially as opposed to the younger, but more muscled Peakes, but his accuracy would have made anyone sit up and take notice. Harry and Ron were unanimous. Coote, with Peakes first reserve, Seamus would be second reserve if needed, which, with Dean being the only worthwhile Chaser substitute, was more likely than at first seemed.

With that done with, Harry took the reserve Seeker wannabes – all three of them, slightly surprising considering Harry's propensity to get injured – on his own, to put them through their paces. Among them was the first year that Katie had recommended, looking rather unhappily at her broom, a school one, and yet seemingly determined to impress. Harry had a quiet word with her before she took off.

"Look, don't worry about the broom; I know what they're like. What I'm going to look for from you is how you manage to control it, and how much you can get out of it. If you're good enough, Ron and I will have a word with Professor McGonagall; see if we can't bend the rule about first years and broomsticks. She's done it before." He winked.

He had been planning on directing them from the ground, using his Omniocculars so that he could judge them as fairly as possible. However, the longer he stood there by himself, the more thoughts of Snape entered his mind, so with a troubled mind, he took to the skies on his Firebolt. One of the three was absolutely useless – a fourth year called Alumyna Terry. Emily Crowley – the first year – was quicker and more agile on the school broom than Alumyna was on her Nimbus. Dennis Creevey was the other trialist, and he was no great shakes either, although he was the best of the lot, if they were to play on their current brooms.

Ron strode over to the half of the pitch where Harry was. Harry swooped down to meet him.

"Any good? My lot were abysmal, worse than me on a bad day." Ron muttered.

"Not great." Harry admitted. "The first year looks decent, but you know that rule about first years. Wouldn't mind seeing her on a decent broom. Otherwise Creevey's the only one of the other two with any ability at all. Ginny would be better, and Dean as Chaser."

Ron nodded, then blew his whistle, while Harry summoned the Snitch to his hand. He waited for the three Seekers to return to ground, before saying. "Right guys, good job. The reserve Keeper will be Romilda Vane, the Seekers are nearly done, but Harry wants to see you on my Cleansweep rather than that old school broom, Emily, before making up his mind."

The first year took the broom with an expression of delight on her face. Ron nodded approvingly as he watched her control the broom and change direction with ease.

"Not bad Harry, what's she like with the Snitch?"

"Good. Watch." Harry released the fluttering ball from his grip, and then sped up after it on his Firebolt, He yelled out to the first year, and led her tumbling across the field after it, shepherding the ball into as many awkward manoeuvres as he could. Emily caught the Snitch the first chance she got.

The two other hopefuls looked rather deflated as they returned to the ground. Harry and Ron conferred, but only because they felt they should, the decision was obvious.

"Emily, I'd like you to be the reserve Seeker. We'll have a word with McGonagall; see if we can get dispensation for you, otherwise, we'll find some way around the rule."

That night, before Harry fell asleep, he lay there, trying to push the memory of that afternoon with Snape into a cupboard, as he was still doing when it came to Occlumency. The memory didn't want to be hidden away somewhere, and so Harry struggled on, thinking desperately that he needed to find some way to improve his Occlumency. He was still struggling with it when he fell asleep.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry looked around the pit he was in. He knew this room, the benches, and doorways, the arch; he could probably recall it down to the very last item while conscious, if he ever wanted to. He was dreaming about it. Again. There were two other people in here with him, duelling. Harry heard one of them laugh mockingly at the other.

"Is that all you can do Bellatrix? You can do better than that!"

Short pants interspaced the woman's slightly manic reply. "You are no match for me, cousin. I am the Dark Lord's favourite, his Chosen One! He – he has taught me things you couldn't even imagine! Avada Kedavra!"

Sirius avoided the curse easily. "Oh I can imagine the Killing Curse alright. Why don't you show me what you've got?"

"NO!" Harry yelled.

He had no wand, but regardless yelled "Falxia!" pointing his hand at Bellatrix's figure. A flash of crimson light appeared on the Death Eater's chest. A look of surprise, and then… Both she and Sirius shattered into a thousand pieces of glass, flying across the room, but hitting some invisible barrier in front of Harry.

Silence. There was no mocking laughter, no figure falling through the curtain, no torturer on one of the benches. Just. Silence.

Harry looked around. He was the only one in the room now.

"Sirius?" He questioned nervously. "Sirius, are you there?"

No one replied.

Harry climbed the benches, slowly, sure that someone else would appear in his dream. No one did. He reached towards the handle of a door, the one that led into the reception room, and walked through. It was as if he had just walked into the Arch room, rather than out of it. He stood at the top of the pit, looking down at the empty room before him, door to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries at his back.

Confused, he walked around the room once more, this time reaching for the door handle of the wooden barrier that Dawlish had been behind when Harry had run from the Aurors at Snape's hearing. He stepped through, this time appearing with the Brain room's door at his back. This was bizarre. He tried the other doors, each one leading back into the same room he was now standing in.

Finally, Harry lowered himself back down to the pit floor, and climbed up onto the raised dais. He looked at the curtain, the material looked so real. It didn't just look, as he soon found out when he touched it, its texture, its temperature, everything felt just like it had when Harry had put his finger through.

"This is only a dream." Harry told himself. "Only a dream, and this is the last one to try."

He screwed himself up; and walked through the arch.

Harry sat up in the pitch dark, panting, bed sheets falling off his torso. It was while he tried to remember what had happened, listening to his fellow students sleeping peacefully, that it hit him. He knew what his final Sanctuary had to be, the place where he was to store all of his memories, the place where he was to defend his mind above all else. It was the place that Sirius had died.

He felt a surge of elation at his discovery, thinking vengefully that no matter what Snivellus might have said, Occlumency was something he could achieve, if given the right instruction anyway. Let's face it; Dumbledore was a far better teacher than Snape, after all. And with gleeful thoughts of Snape's inadequacies, he lay down once more; it would not be his last dream of the night.

* * *

_A/N: Clearly, the Quidditch team members were some of those that I stole the names for! I also stole Cormac McLaggen's name, although he was always going to be in albeit with a different name, and a completely different physique._


	14. The Man in the Mask

**Chapter 14: The Man in the Mask**

There was something familiar about the room Harry found himself in, and for a few seconds he didn't register what it was. Then it hit him - it looked almost identical to the room Voldemort had been in when… when he showed Harry the deaths of his parents. The gold serpent was slithering around the wall still; the portraits were still there – although the furniture had changed slightly. Harry was currently sitting upon a plush throne-like chair, legs raised upon a footstool. He was sipping a drink that burnt his throat as it descended – he didn't think it really tasted of much other than fire. Across the room, a snake – real this time – was curled up in front of the blazing hearth, in mockery of household pets everywhere.

"He is here, My Lord!" Bellatrix's voice came from behind the door.

"Show him in." Harry said in a cold voice, kicking away the footstool, and putting down the drink.

Two figures in Death Eater's robes and masks walked in. One of them fell to the floor immediately, face bent to touch the ground. Bellatrix, the other, remained standing,

"Do you wish me to stay, Master?" Sirius' killer asked breathless with anticipation.

"Leave us." Harry answered coldly, as if he had one tone of voice and one only.

Neither he nor the other figure spoke until the door closed, and they were the only ones left in the room. Harry waved a hand towards the door, preventing any sound from escaping from inside the room. As he did so, the kneeling Death Eater spoke for the first time.

"My Lord. Thank you Master."

He crawled to Harry's feet, kissing his robes. Harry eyed him for a few seconds before speaking.

"Take off your mask."

Trembling fingers reached up to unclasp the facial disguise, allowing long, black, greasy hair to slide down the sides of the man's face. It was Severus Snape.

"Crucio!" Harry said, withdrawing his wand and pointing at the Hogwarts' Potions' Professor.

Harry stared intently at Snape's face. He was yelling in agony, creases appearing where Harry did not know creases could appear, hair flying over his face as he bucked and tossed, occasionally revealing the bulging eyes, which were half rolling upwards, refocusing every time his head smashed to the ground. Blood was running out from his mouth, where he had bitten his tongue; he seemed unable to accomplish speech, to plead for mercy even, but rather could only scream unintelligibly again and again and again.

The rest of his body was in similar pain: one of his legs had been caught beneath his writhing body, lodged in a most unnatural position, the top part of his robes had split, from where his body continued to swell ever larger as the curse racked it, revealing veins which seemed to be trying to force their way out of his body, getting closer and closer to the surface until…

Harry lifted the curse. He felt intense satisfaction, this, at last, was some semblance of payback for what Snape had done to him.

"Master," Snape pled, having at last regained use of his voice, "Master, forgive me, I have long yearned to return to your side, but I did not know the way."

"Silence!" Harry spat. "You did not return to my side upon my rebirth. Why? You were once Lord Voldemort's most loyal, most trusted servant. Why then, did you refuse to come to me?"

"Master, I dared not, I was beside Dumbledore when I felt your return, attempting to discover where Diggory and Potter had disappeared to. If I had left, he would have known. I thought you might still find me useful as a spy if I remained, Master. I waited until he asked me to return to you, but by then you had prevented me from ever finding your side."

"You lie!" Lord Voldemort said, raising his wand to curse Snape again.

"No Master, My Lord, you are my Master, I could never forsake you!"

"Do not use such words to me Severus, they only serve to deepen our mistrust. You are the truest Slytherin among my followers, and we both know what that means. Do not treat Lord Voldemort as a fool, for he knows you better than you do yourself. Crucio!"

It was as Harry watched Snape writhe before him once more, that, even as he felt pleasure at the sight of Snape getting what he deserved, he had the first inklings that this was not a dream, and this was not his unconscious getting revenge on Snape. Slowly, the pleasure that he was receiving from torturing the man started to wane. Voldemort lifted the wand.

"Speak, Severus, if you would save your life."

"My Lord!" Harry could hear the desperation in Snape's voice, "I only meant, you are the one that first showed me the way, how to hone my talents, what I must do, and for that, you shall always be my master, my teacher. I could never turn away from you, and what the Great Salazar, your forefather represents."

Lord Voldemort paused, slightly appeased; although how Harry knew that, he didn't know.

He took another sip of his drink, before continuing, "You are lucky, Severus, that I know you to be a true Slytherin, for the fact that you will always look for power has kept you alive thus far tonight. That and your trial this summer, of course, for you could have betrayed me if you wished. You must prove your loyalty beyond doubt however if you wish to stay that way."

"My Lord, you know me to be loyal to Salazar's principles, how then could I turn from you, a man that cannot be killed, to follow a Muggle lover such as Dumbledore?" His voice carried utter revulsion. "What power, what glory for me or Slytherin could lie that way? I have always followed you my Lord, I have just been waiting to be recalled."

"Why then, did you not come immediately Bella called you to my service?" Voldemort demanded.

Something deep inside told Harry he should be thinking about trying to wake up, but two things stopped him. One was that he did not believe that Voldemort was aware of his presence yet, and the other was that this could be his best way of discovering proof that Snape was a Death Eater.

"Which side are you on Severus?" Lord Voldemort asked. "Slytherin's or the Mudbloods'?"

"Yours my Lord, always yours. I could not come any sooner, it would have been too risky – Dumbledore –"

"And you wished to discover whether there was a chance I would accept you back before you came, did you not?"

Snape hung his head. "Yes, Master, I am sorry, Master."

"I expected it. You are Slytherin. How ironic it is that you should be a half-blood, my friend."

"My Lord, I was always trying to return to your side, the information I was relaying to Malfoy –"

Lord Voldemort silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Yes, I only recently discovered that much of the information Lucius claimed for himself originally came through you. He has suffered, and shall continue to, accordingly."

"I still require proof." Voldemort continued. "Lower your Occlumency defences. Now."

"Yes my Lord." Snape said meekly.

"Legilimens!"

There was silence. Harry had obviously not followed Voldemort into his search of Snape's mind. Snape was just allowing Voldemort to see whatever he wanted? Harry felt the burning hatred towards Snape return, he had been giving Voldemort information all last year, even though he hadn't been accepted as a Death Eater? Somehow that made it ten times worse.

"Know this, Severus, I will not permit you to perform Occlumency in my presence until I can trust you once more. It is a foible that I shall no longer indulge." Voldemort said, as he returned to his body, seemingly satisfied. "If I ever discover your usage of it, your death will be swift."

"Of course, my Lord, of course." Snape agreed.

Damn it, why couldn't Voldemort Crucio him again? Maybe he could torture him into insanity – if anyone deserved it, it was him. Kill Snape before his treachery cost Harry and his friends dearly once more. Why couldn't the bloodthirsty maniac just refuse to accept him back?

Harry felt Lord Voldemort's eyes grow wider. "It appears Potter has vouched for you, Severus."

Snape grew alarmed once more, "My Lord, Potter is here? He shall tell Dumbledore."

"No matter, Dumbledore will believe you ahead of the boy."

"But my Lord, I always tell him if I am spying for him; I thought tonight should remain secret."

"Then we shall have to give incontestable-"

Harry hardly heard the first few words of Voldemort's sentence; he was feeling pain, pain equal to the Cruciatus curse. His whole body felt like it was being squashed into something the size of a Rubik's cube. His head was being pressed down to meet his feet, pushed somewhere between his arms, almost inside his chest, until suddenly he lost all sense of inhabiting a body. As he tried to adjust to the strange sensation, the vision of Snape started to flicker before him, replaced by the back of his own, or rather Voldemort's, body, until it too started to distort and blur. Concentrating with all his might, he tried to wake up.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He spat out the sheets that he had somehow stuffed inside his mouth while writhing on the bed. He sat up once more, the pain was fading rapidly. He swung his legs to the floor and held his head in his hands. He had used the Cruciatus curse on Snape, _and he had enjoyed it_.

'No you didn't." A voice said in his head, Hermione's. "You were feeling Voldemort's emotions, you were feeling his enjoyment."

Why was he feeling guilty about Snape anyway? Snape was the one that had set Voldemort on his parents, Snape had just returned to Voldemort's side, returned as a Death Eater. Snape had been working for Voldemort even when Voldemort had not trusted him, trying to be readmitted into his followers. Snape deserved to die.

"But maybe he wasn't." Hermione's voice said once more. "Maybe he was still working on Dumbledore's orders; maybe the meeting tonight was just part of his attempts to spy upon Voldemort."

"Yeah, right." Harry muttered out loud. "That's why he let Voldemort see everything he wanted to."

He put his glasses on, then stood up and walked to his trunk, where he had put his mirror last night.

"Remus. Remus Lupin." Nothing happened.

He looked at his watch, it was three a.m. Harry mentally hit himself. Of course Remus would not respond, he was fast asleep. Harry put it back in his trunk, and closed the lid. What now? He couldn't just go back to sleep, could he? He wanted to do something, but couldn't see what.

He walked softly to the door, wand in hand, and descended to the common room. At least here he could move around without fear of waking anyone. He shivered. The fire was out. He paced around the room, trying to stay warm, and trying to think. What should he do? Professor Dumbledore wasn't here, he couldn't contact Remus, he supposed he could go and find Professor McGonagall, but what would happen then?

She'd probably be furious about being woken up, would tell him that Snape was only doing his job for Dumbledore, and order him back to bed. That's what everyone would say, isn't it – that's what Hermione will say when she finds out what happened. He had to tell Dumbledore. Snape had said that Dumbledore did not know about the meeting, so if Harry told him before Snape had a chance to say anything first…

But how could he? Snape, as well as being a Death Eater, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, which he already knew had methods of communicating quickly and easily. Far quicker than anything Harry could do; Snape would probably have a cover story told to Dumbledore, maybe even immediately he left Voldemort tonight.

And would Dumbledore believe him? Surely, it was, as Voldemort had implied, inevitable that Dumbledore would believe Snape over him? And it didn't help that he hated Snape with a passion, and Dumbledore knew it, or that he had just discovered Snape had told the Prophecy to Voldemort, and Dumbledore would find that out through Remus. Why had Hermione had to tell him? His word would surely mean much less to Dumbledore than ever before on the subject.

Harry kicked over a table. Anything he said, or did, would just be discounted as his hatred of Snape. Or worse, they might say that it was something Voldemort had intentionally shown him, in order to spread dissension in Dumbledore's Order. That Voldemort was using the vision to trick him, like he had with Sirius.

Harry stopped pacing, trying desperately to think. Could Voldemort have shown it to him trick him? Had it not really happened at all? But no… Harry had sensed his emotions; Harry had sensed surprise when Voldemort had discovered him. No, this was definitely real, wasn't it? He yawned, and then shivered again.

"Go back to bed." Hermione's voice advised him. "There's nothing you can do now, go to sleep so that you're wide awake enough to do something tomorrow."

When Harry finally took 'Hermione's' advice, he found, however, that for all his tiredness, he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, when he really knew that he had to stop thinking about Snape instead. No matter what Occlumency technique he tried to use, it didn't help. He sat up, frustrated, and reached for his wand, to make sure he didn't wake anyone as he struggled with the covers and mattress.

As he picked his wand up, his hand brushed a piece of parchment for the second time late at night that week. He put his glasses back on. It was the Marauders' Map: he could make sure the dream was real, rather than something Voldemort had planted there! He tapped the Map with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He whispered, and then added, "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to break that promise. Right then Snape, where are you."

But no lines marking classrooms, common rooms, and living quarters appeared. Instead, in the middle of the parchment, was a sentence, written by Prongs.

_No enemy of a Marauder may use this map._

"What?" Harry hissed. "Damn it this is important."

The sentence remained in dark black ink, a lone feature on a desert landscape.

"Come on." Harry urged, tapping the paper once more. "This could mean life or death! Look, if you won't let me look at the map, at least tell me if Snape is in the castle or not!"

_No._

"No he isn't in the castle, or no you won't tell me?"

_No-one who calls a friend of mine a traitor will get any help from me._

Another script joined the discussion, it was Moony's. _Prongs, give him a chance to explain. There must be a reason._

_No need, I think I __already __know everything I need to._

_Come on James, _Padfoot's writing now said, _let's hear him out. Else what are we going to do? Refuse to let anyone use our map after all the work we put in to it?_

_Give us a few minutes, Harry, we'll get him to at least listen to you. _

_Oh you will, will you Moony?_

Harry glanced at his watch; it was nearing four in the morning, nearly an hour after he woke up. If he didn't find out soon, Snape would be back from Voldemort regardless. That is, if he wasn't already. He didn't have time for this. He padded over to his trunk once more, taking out the mirror.

"Remus. Remus Lupin."

Again there was no answer. He placed it beside his bed with a sigh. Was there anything else that he could try? He glanced at the Map again. A sentence was sitting there, waiting to be read.

_Harry, are you there?_

Harry deliberated momentarily. What was there to lose? He wanted to feel he was doing something, and what else could he do? He tapped the map with his wand, so that he could answer Padfoot.

"Yes."

_All right._ Prongs scrawled. _Fine, I'll listen. But this better be good. _

"Look you can't tell me whether Snape is in the castle first, could you?" Harry asked, "And I can explain after. It's just this is urgent."

_No. I'll listen, and then maybe, if your tale is good enough, you can use the map again. Not before._

_So then,_ Padfoot wrote, _are you still claiming that Peter is a traitor?_

"It's not just a claim." Harry muttered, "It's the truth."

_Why?_

Suddenly Harry wondered if they'd ever even heard of Voldemort. Had he begun his reign of terror when they were in school?

"Have any of you heard of someone called Voldemort? Lord Voldemort?"

_Nope. Never heard of him. Friend of yours?_ Prongs wrote.

_I haven't heard of him either, how about you Moony?_

Harry continued before Moony could write anything. "How about Tom Riddle? He changed his name to Voldemort when he grew older."

_Tom Riddle… Yeah, I've heard of him. Didn't he win some kind of award for services to the school in Hogwarts? Yeah I'm sure he did, I had to clean his plaque one detention, a month or two ago._ Prongs said.

"He is the Heir of Slytherin." Harry said, taking a deep breath. "He unlocked the Chamber of Secrets, and killed someone with Slytherin's monster, a Basilisk, then blamed the death on someone else, who took the punishment for him. That's what he got the award for."

_Come off it!_ Prongs' sceptical hand wrote. _The Chamber of Secrets is a myth, it never existed. Heir of Slytherin. A Basilisk. You don't expect me to believe this do you? _

_Hear him out Prongs, you did promise._ Padfoot cut in.

"Well, Tom Riddle left Hogwarts and then tried to find out everything he could about the Dark Arts. When he returned, he had changed his name to Lord Voldemort. He wanted to get rid of all the Muggleborn witches or wizards, or half-bloods, and to-"

_Hang on._ Padfoot interrupted once more._ I have heard of him. He's got a kind of cult thing, my parents were talking about him last Christmas, agreeing with everything he said, so he's got to be bad news. Trying to get all Purebloods to gang up and kick everyone else out of the Wizarding world or some such rubbish. _

_But what has this got to do with us Marauders. What has it got to do with Wormtail? _

_Maybe if you didn't keep interrupting, Prongs, you'd find out. _Moony said.

"Anyway, after you made this map, he started getting more and more followers, and people started disappearing and dying everywhere. He put people under the Imperius curse, threatened other people into submission, tortured and killed families if they didn't worship him-"

_What has this got to do with Peter!_ Prongs wrote, in large, bold letters across the page.

_Give it a rest Prongs, let him finish!_

_Why are you sticking up for him Padfoot? He's accusing one of us of being, of being a traitor, of selling out! _

_Because I have a good feeling about him. Canine instinct, you know how us dogs can tell decent people from people, well, people like my parents. _

"Well Voldemort wanted to kill my parents." Harry continued, before they could really start bickering, but wondering why, for it seemed obvious that he wasn't achieving anything. "And they tried to protect themselves with the Fidelius charm, with Wormtail as their Secret Keeper. He betrayed them to him. Because of him, Voldemort killed my parents, and tried to kill me, but failed. That's why Pettigrew's a traitor. That's why I won't tell you anything with him here."

_And who exactly were your parents? _Prongs scribbled. _Probably a pair of Dark Wizards. Who was your father? One of Snivellus' mates, and that's why you want to find him is it?_

_I doubt it, James. _Padfoot wrote, as Harry's wand was about to descend to tell them to forget it, that Prongs would never believe him.

_And why is that_

_Because you're his father._

All sentences bar Padfoot's final one dissolved away, Harry's wand stayed motionless above the parchment. There was a wait of seconds, before more writing appeared below it.

_I what? What are you talking about, Padfoot mate?_

Harry tapped the paper. "How did you know?"

_I was watching the map. The only Harry in Hogwarts that is moving around at this time of night is Harry Potter. And that, and Moony's older self introducing you, and your parents choosing a Marauder as a Secret Keeper all suggests that you, are James' son. _

_My son? You're kidding me? How can I have a son? But… _

_Prongs being speechless. I never thought I'd see it. _Moony wrote.

_Just wondering, but why didn't Prongs choose either of us? _Padfoot asked.

"It was meant to be a bluff, but it failed." Harry said, not wanting to explain further. "It meant that one of you got sent to Azkaban, and Pettigrew got away."

_Pett- But Wormtail!_ Prongs wrote, remembering, _Wormtail wouldn't betray us like that, you must have it wrong! It must be someone else. I – We – trust Wormtail with our lives._

That was the problem, Harry thought bitterly.

"Voldemort is really powerful, Pettigrew was attracted to his power. Do you believe me or not? Can I now see whether Snape is here?"

_I don't know, I, I need to think about it. _Prongs wrote shakily.

_Snape entered the castle while we were talking._ Moony told him.

"Thank you, Moony." Harry said. "That's what I needed to know."

_Harry, son – damn, I can't say that, it doesn't sound right, I'm only fifteen! – er… who is, was, um, will be my w- your mother?_

Harry had an insane urge to laugh, but suppressed it. "Lily Evans."

_Li- _

"Fin."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"You're sure, Harry, quite sure, that Voldemort didn't show it to you on purpose?" Hermione was saying for the sixth time that day – which was quite impressive seeing as it was only lunchtime.

The three of them had hidden in a portrait-less disused classroom, with every secrecy charm they could think of on the door and walls (including imperturbable charms in case anyone had been to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, and decided to try to eavesdrop on them with Extendable Ears – the ones they were selling were sold without the upgrades.)

"For the last time Hermione, yes! I checked on the Marauders Map, Snape wasn't in the castle. Anyway, I don't think Voldemort knew I was there until the very end. I mean," He said uncertainly, "I wasn't exactly thinking nice things about Snape, and I thought I was just dreaming, or fantasising or something, so I guess he couldn't tell."

"But, Harry, you know… I mean your visions have been really useful before but-"

"But one of them got Sirius killed. I know Hermione; you don't have to tell me." Harry said furiously.

"I'm sorry Harry, that was really tactless, but… you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes, I know what you mean." Harry snapped, and then sighed. "Look, I spent most of this morning wondering the same thing, okay?"

"But this is proof, Harry." Ron breathed. "This is proof that Snape is a Death Eater. You have to tell Dumbledore!"

"No it isn't proof Ron." Hermione said exasperated. "What if he was just trying to return as a spy?"

Neither Hermione nor Ron had said anything so far, that Harry hadn't already thought of and asked himself a hundred times.

"He is a spy Hermione! You-Know-Who's! Don't you remember what he's done to Harry?"

"Yes, I do." Hermione said, eyes narrowing, in a tone that suggested that she wouldn't forgive him for it easily. "But are you sure you aren't letting that colour your judgement?"

"You mean if I dislike someone with a passion, then it's a point in their favour?" Harry asked angrily.

"You know that's not what I me-"

"Hang on." Ron interrupted, "Harry, you said that Snape lowered his Occlumency shield for Voldemort, right?" Harry nodded. "Then that proves it. If Snape was working for us then Voldemort would have killed him."

Hermione was silent – so far, in all of her arguments, she hadn't really managed to deal with this problem.

"So he's a spy." Ron concluded. "Harry, tell Dumbledore."

"I can't!" Harry said in frustration. "Haven't you been listening, Ron? Dumbledore isn't around at the moment, and I couldn't get through to Remus on the mirror when I tried earlier."

"He's probably out on Order business, or something." Hermione told them. "That's probably why. Harry, how long does it take to see a memory when someone performs Occlumency?"

"I don't know, I've never timed it." Harry said irritably. "Why?"

"Well, I was just thinking, V- Voldemort could hardly have looked at every single one of Snape's memories, could he? Maybe he only saw some memories of Snape's that made it look like he was a Death Eater."

"Hermione," Ron said in exasperation (Harry's understandably tetchy mood was spreading it seemed), "Snape is a Death Eater. Accept it, and move on. Tell McGonagall – maybe she can get Dumbledore back so you can speak to him."

"But don't you see Ron? McGonagall will just say the same thing as Hermione's been saying. She won't believe me."

"Well you might as well at least try. Look, we have to talk to her about letting that first year ride a decent broom if she's going to be your sub, you might as well mention it then, we can go ask her at dinner or something."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The whole of the day continued in contrast to Harry's morning, in exceptional calm. Double Charms passed by quickly and without incident, and even Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts had no surprises this time. They were learning to cast, and then demonstrating their proficiency with, the Falxia spell, Harry found that he seemed to have picked it up faster than anyone else, even Hermione. The spell that came out of his Abramite was accompanied by a flash of crimson red which nobody else could match. Another blessing for Harry, was that not having Potions on Fridays, all they saw of Snape was his limping to the staff table at dinner.

This, Harry was quick to point out to Hermione, was proof that he had been tortured by Voldemort, and caused Ron to repeat his belief that Harry should tell McGonagall. But when they approached her, and Harry and Ron put her on the spot by reminding her that she had allowed Harry to have a broom in first year, that he was afraid it would look like favouritism, and they thus finally managed to gain permission (as long as the Captain stored the broom when it wasn't practice or a match), Harry found he couldn't mention it.

"Harry wanted to ask you something else." Ron said, stepping on Harry's foot, as she dismissed them.

"Very well then Mr Potter, what is it?"

"I wanted to… I wanted to ask you if you knew when Professor Dumbledore would be back, and if you could tell him that I need to speak with him. It's about Voldemort."

She winced at the name. "I am not sure, but rest assured that I shall mention it when we next talk."

"Thanks. It's just kind of important."

"I will let him know Potter." She said with some asperity.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Ron hissed as they walked away.

Harry shrugged. "This'll achieve the same thing, won't it?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione paid their first visit to Hagrid's hut that evening. They had hardly spoken to him all week, and Harry had the nasty feeling that Hagrid had been hurt by the fact that none of them had taken his class. He did, in fact, give them a rather cool greeting, but it soon vanished upon their entreaties that they just didn't have time to include it with their schedules.

"Harry and I are already taking one more than we have to." Ron said earnestly, "And that's because we felt we needed Herbology to help us with Potions. And Hermione hasn't got a free period in her timetable!"

"I do." Hermione replied, slightly indignantly. "I have one Thursday mornings. I had to drop Ancient Runes as well." She continued, slightly mournfully.

"Ah well." Hagrid said at last. "I didn' really expec' yeh to, like, it'd jus' be nice teh see a few frien'ly faces in the class an' all."

"How are the classes going Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Well your year's goin' righ' nicely at the mo'." He told them. "Teachin' 'em all about the different breeds of Winged Horses, yeh know, to carry on from Thestrals last year. Speakin' of Thestrals, I got myself hold of a couple of Augureys, Irish Phoenixes, yeh know, one of the thir' years still believed they signalled death if yeh'll believe it."

Harry found the time with Hagrid quite enjoyable, even if he never quite got rid of his fears about Snape and Voldemort. He was, however, trying to take Ron's advice, which was that seeing as he'd done pretty much all he could, he might as well try to forget about it until he could speak to Dumbledore. When he finally talked to Remus before going to sleep, he found the same sort of advice, but somehow their conversation was a bit more conducive to that goal.

Remus had taken the news of Snape's appearance before Voldemort rather better than Harry had expected.

"Yes, we all expected this to happen sooner or later. As I imagine you've gathered, his attempts to return to Voldemort's inner circle had failed before now, but we always expected him to succeed at some point. All we can do now is believe Dumbledore."

"But Remus, he opened up his mind to Voldemort!" Harry protested.

"I don't pretend to know more than a basic knowledge of Occlumency Harry, but Snape truly is a master at it. I would not be surprised if he could make it seem like he was not hiding anything, when he actually was. I would have thought he has had that demand to drop his shields before, from Albus as well as Voldemort."

Harry hadn't thought of that. Now he came to think about it, he had to admit, if someone claimed that he was a spy in both camps, neither camp would believe him unless they thought he had lowered his defences.

"So he might be still working for us then?" Harry said dubiously, "But Remus, he, he was the one that told-"

Remus' reflection held up his hand, his face seemed to tighten. "Hermione told me last night, Harry. Have no mistake, I shall be having words with him; of course it is now no longer surprising that I could not find him last night to do just that. However… Dumbledore trusts him to be on our side, and it is true that we have gained ground thanks to some of his information…"

Remus shook his head, and continued, very seriously, "Harry. I can't help but have the feeling that being the side that Snape chooses may be key to winning this war."

"So I should do what? Just sit there while he does all in his power to expel me? While he tells me that he was the one to send Voldemort after Mum and Dad? Should I trust him completely no matter what he does to me?" Harry asked bitterly.

"I don't ask you to trust him. But I would ask you to make absolutely certain that you don't assume he is a Death Eater because of all of the things he has done to you. Snape is stubborn Harry and while that means he still hates James, it also means that if he has decided to fight Voldemort, then he could end up saving us all."

"I'll try," Harry muttered, "but it isn't easy when he goes out of his way to do things to me."

Remus smiled in relief. "And speaking of James and stubborn, have you tried talking to the map again yet?"

"Oh! Yeah! That was how I knew that the vision was real – Snape wasn't actually in the castle."

As Harry talked to Remus, he started to appreciate the funny side of his conversation with the Marauders, which was only possible when you were viewing it as a bystander rather than a participant. When he got to the bit when Prongs had asked who he was going to marry, Remus roared with laughter.

"You know," He told Harry, still chuckling; "I have a feeling he's going to believe you after you told him that. Did Wormtail say anything?"

"Nothing." Harry said. "I was a bit surprised, I expected him to be denying everything."

Remus gave a bit of a grimace, and his face became lined with worry once more. "Yeah, that sounds like Pettigrew alright. He hardly said anything to anyone except us. He was just really shy. You know Harry; this Pettigrew probably has no idea what he would grow up to do to us."

Harry said nothing.

"You know I said that you wouldn't know the adult James or Sirius from the map? Well you probably won't see any of the adult Peter in it either. But enough about that, how has your first week been apart from Snape and Voldemort and us Marauders?"

Harry felt easier in his conversation with Remus than he had all day. There was something, he felt, about talking to someone who was going through some of the same feelings you were, that could make those things easier to bear.

Just as Remus was about to sign off, and reminded Harry to do his Occlumency, despite any wish he might have to find information out, Harry remembered his first dream of the previous night.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot Moony." He said excitedly. "I think I've finally got past that problem I was having with storing my memories. You couldn't tell Professor Dumbledore if you see him could you? I already asked Professor McGonagall to tell him I needed to see him, but not what about. Maybe you could mention both things to him if you see him?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The weekend held surprisingly little free time for Harry. Ron had somehow managed to get a prime Saturday afternoon spot on the Quidditch pitch, where they held their first training session, letting an ecstatic Emily Crowley know that she would be allowed to bring her Nimbus to school, as long as Ron looked after it while she was not using it.

Calling them to him before the practice got underway, Ron began by saying: "Look, I know that we haven't had reserves before now, and some of you may not play in that many matches, but everyone has to be ready." He then added magnanimously, "I won't expect the reserves to make every single training session, but I do expect at least a fifty percent attendance when we don't have a match coming up, and you'd better be at almost all of them when we do. There's no point in having reserves that can't fit in with the team when they're needed."

Harry thought that Ron performed admirably, both as captain, and as a Keeper. The fact that he was busy giving instructions to his team meant that he was Keeping on instincts – and Ron's instincts were good. It was when he thought too much, or worried about whether or not he was good enough that he started to have problems.

Off the Quidditch pitch, Harry was finding his time was short this weekend. He had done no homework Friday, not feeling up to having to think hard about something other than Snape, to tell the truth, which meant that he had work to catch up on. He was trying to get ahead on work as well, seeing as he was hoping to speak to Dumbledore at some point the following week. To top it all off, Hermione had persuaded Ron and him to help on a little project of hers.

"Why do you want my help? Anything you do will be far better than mine or Ron's efforts Hermione."

"Well, it's just, last time I had far more time to do this." Hermione said anxiously.

"Hermione, you were _meant_ to say that that wasn't true, and Harry and I could do some of the things just as well." Ron told her in mock anger.

"Oh." Hermione went slightly red. "Well, of course you can, I was just tryi-"

"Hermione – he's joking." Harry said with a grin. "We both know perfectly well that nothing we could do would approach your standards."

Hermione looked mortified. "That's not true Harry. I- I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want help, would I?"

Ron snorted with laughter. "But why _do_ you want our help? I mean, let's be honest, you gave Edgecombe what was coming to her, didn't you?"

"I had a good few weeks to do that last time though. Okay, some of it was taken up with finding out how exactly to cast the charm, but anyway, I think we'd better put extra protection on it this time, if we're worried about someone betraying us to Voldemort."

"I can wait before arranging the meeting." Harry said, almost hopefully.

"No Harry, we need to get back into the DA as soon as possible. I mean," She added hastily, "those of us that decide to keep going with it despite the risks of course."

"I was thinking I'd arrange it in about a fortnight. That Saturday evening, you know? Things will have calmed down then."

"That long away?" Hermione said in relief. "I was thinking you'd arrange it sooner. It still isn't much time though, we'd better get working on it."

"Fine." Ron told her resignedly. "You can tell us what you want us to do then."

This, of course, meant that Harry, Ron, and Hermione's free time was spent in the library – working. While this was a source of enjoyment for Hermione, Harry and Ron could think of other things they'd have liked to do with their time.

Harry's nights that weekend were completely devoid of any kind of visions whatsoever, and, for the first time for a long time, he didn't dream of Sirius in the Arch room either. It was dangerous to think it, but it seemed to Harry as if there was little else that could top – or bottom, depending on how you looked at it – Thursday and Snape, and he had dealt with that, after all, hadn't he? He pushed the uncomfortable feeling and annoying voice that was saying 'only barely' out of his mind.

Monday dawned grey and drearily, the raindrops in the Great Hall disappearing just before they made contact with Harry's head as he sat down for breakfast. His quick glance at the staff table showed Dumbledore's seat to still be empty, to his disappointment. It wasn't just that he wanted to explain about Snape, but almost just as urgently, he wanted to find out what he was meant to do next in his Occlumency lessons. It had felt like the only thing he could do to resist Voldemort over the summer, and not knowing what to do next was frustrating.

The majority of Harry's transfiguration lesson was as depressing as the day outside. No matter how hard he tried, he seemed to be making as little progress as in any Transfiguration – no, any_subject's_ – class he had had at Hogwarts. Indeed, when Professor McGonagall told him to stay behind after class, he felt sure that it was because of his abysmal performance.

"Potter," Minerva McGonagall began, "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to inform you that he will be returning to the school tonight, and that he would be delighted to see you in his study at nine o'clock this evening. The password to his office is 'Ice Mice'."

"Oh." Harry said, taken slightly aback. "Thank you Professor."

"And Potter," She continued, before Harry could make for the door, "you are far better at Transfiguration than you showed today – I expect you to put the work in before your next class to prove it."

"Yes Professor."

Harry informed Hermione and Ron of his meeting with Dumbledore that evening as he caught up to them at lunch.

"Good." Hermione said, pleased, "He'll be able to explain everything then."

"Hope so." Harry said. "Er, why are you eating so quickly Hermione?"

Hermione, who had started to eat at a speed that would have impressed Ron, swallowed hastily. "We have lots of work to do, remember? We have to get back up to the library."

"Oh. Yeah." Ron said, stabbing at his carrots with his fork, and studying them.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts today was a theoretical class. Aravenne introduced them to Magi, Virgaemin, and then Virgaemin Magi, before proceeding to lecture them on the first. These, as Hermione was delighted to tell them, were terms used for the ways in which witches or wizards duelled.

A Magus was somebody that duelled without speaking aloud the incantation for the spells they used, these were quite common. A Virgaemin was a person that was able to proficiently duel without using their wand, but yet verbalised the spells, they were quite rare, and tended only to use their abilities when forced to. Virgaemin Magi, were, as the name suggested, a combination of the two – a witch or wizard that was able to cast wandless magic without speech – Aravenne told them there were only a handful of people alive in Britain who could do this. Harry knew two of them – Dumbledore and Voldemort.

"To cast a spell without speaking the incantation is a relatively simple task, and all of you should be able to accomplish it, casting a spell of similar strength to your verbalised attempts. It simply requires complete concentration on the task at hand. To translate this to a duel, however, is not so simple. Why?"

A couple of hands shot up, Aravenne pointed towards Susan Bones.

"Because if you're concentrating really hard all the time, it'll tire you out quickly?"

Aravenne nodded, "Very true, although continual practice will improve your stamina, for some people it is indeed too taxing to send spell after spell at an opponent non-verbally. Anyone else? Mr Finnegan?"

"Because it's hard to concentrate when you're diving out of the way of other people's spells, Professor?"

The class grinned along with the teacher. "Indeed, some people can find it very hard to block out what is happening enough to cast a non-verbal spell. Of course, some people go too far, and are so intent on concentrating solely on casting a non-verbal spell, that they get outthought by their opponent, or fail to avoid a curse coming their way."

They spent the next short while discussing the possible advantages for a Magus, with Aravenne asking for input from the class once more.

"The enemy doesn't know what spell you're casting?"

"If they can't see you, they won't know where exactly you are."

"You can take them by surprise!"

"You can fight even if you are silenced." Harry suggested, remembering how a Death Eater had been able to cast his spell even though Hermione had used the Silencio curse on him.

"If it's one of a load of hexes that do the same kind of thing, then they might not know the counter-curse."

Professor Aravenne held up his hands. "Very good. These are all advantages that a Magus might have. So how do you counter them? You have to recognise these curses by means other than their incantation, and utilise tactics in order to prevent a hidden opponent from casting a spell while you are unawares. There are many hazards that a Magus' duelling style can bring to your fights if you or your enemy choose to adopt it. Over the next few weeks I shall be teaching you how to fight like a Magus, to deal with these hazards, and how to combat a proficient Magus as an opponent. Everyone has their weakness, remember that."

Although Aravenne had said that non-verbal spells were relatively simple, Harry was inclined to disagree with him after that first lesson. Oh, he could cast a spell alright, but it was a pretty pathetic attempt. Summoned objects would crawl towards him at a snail's pace, the Jelly Legs curse was barely noticeable – Ron wondered why he was ever so slightly off balance – and Falxia barely made a mark on the target he was using to practice on – giving off a slightly bluish light.

Their teacher seemed quite unworried by the class' struggles to get to grips with non-verbal magic however, he even told them at the end of the class that he would expect them to feel able to combat non-verbally on Tuesdays after the next few weeks, and that soon they could be considered fully fledged Magi.

Immediately their classes for Monday finished, Harry's attention turned to the meeting that evening with Dumbledore, and began to think once more about Snape. He knew that he should have to check his Transfiguration homework before he gave it in, for he felt sure he had included words such as 'Snivellus' or 'traitor' or 'Death Eater' as his mind wandered.

"Ice Mice." Harry said to the Gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office.

The Gargoyle moved aside to allow the wall to open, and Harry to walk onto the spiral staircase that ascended on its own. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the griffon shaped knocker, and knocked, slightly hesitantly, on the door.

"Come in." Dumbledore's voice said strongly from the room behind.

Harry pushed the door open, and walked inside. He noticed a couple of the portraits straighten up and pay closer attention, and others seemingly fall into deeper sleeps. Phineus Nigellus didn't stir, or even snore a little louder.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said rather solemnly, "good. I understand that you have made considerable progress with the choice of a memory to protect yourself with."

"Yes sir, but-"

"But that shall have to wait for now." Dumbledore finished for him. "Harry, I have talked to Professor Snape. He has explained his reasons for his behaviour towards you, and whilst I understand them, I have warned him against behaving in such a manner again."

Harry waited for a few seconds, but Dumbledore showed no signs of continuing to speak, and tell Harry what Snape's reasons may have been, if they were that convincing.

"Why did he do it then? If it was something other than the fact that-" Harry stopped, something about Dumbledore's gaze warned him not to speak his mind about Snape too freely.

Dumbledore sighed. "Please, take a seat." He waited for Harry to do so before continuing. "I am aware that it has proven difficult for either of you to lay aside your differences, Harry, and that you naturally mistrust Severus after your most recent meetings, but consider this:

"Professor Snape discovered Lord Voldemort's desire to meet with him less than an hour before the Welcoming Feast. I am sure you will quite understand that this discovery would, among other things, cause some trepidation to anybody, let alone a man who is attempting to spy on Voldemort."

Harry said nothing, nor did he move an inch.

"Severus made a couple of, perhaps, slightly rash decisions, before he could consult with me about what was best to do. Among them was his premeditated behaviour towards you, and hence your confrontation as you walked up to your common room."

"Where he tried to find out the Prophecy." Harry burst out angrily.

Dumbledore's slightly disappointed look stopped him from continuing. Harry suddenly noticed just how old and tired he looked. It was an impression of Dumbledore that he had had only rarely, and yet it had been increasing in regularity the more Harry had seen him, ever since their discussion after they had faced Voldemort.

"Where he saw the beginning lines to the Prophecy that Sybil Trelawney made about you and Voldemort, so many years ago. Tell me Harry, did you not wonder why Severus attacked you so obviously, and made no attempt to conceal the attempt to discover the Prophecy after he left your mind?"

"Yeah, I did. We all did. Hermione thought that it couldn't mean that he was working for Voldemort, because it would have meant he'd given himself away. Remus agreed with her."

Dumbledore made no comment about the information that Remus and Harry had been talking together. Harry supposed Moony must have told him something about the mirror.

"Your friend, Miss Granger, is quite right Harry. Severus did not perform Legilimency upon you for any benefit of Voldemort's."

"But you already know it!" Harry said. "How could finding it out be helping our side either?"

"It couldn't." Dumbledore told him, serenely. "At least, not directly. Harry, Professor Snape had no intention of seeing the Prophecy in its entirety." He paused for a second. "Think of it like this. If the deed had been done in order to discover the Prophecy for Voldemort, then he would have gone about it differently. Even if he had performed a memory charm upon you upon its completion, you would have been questioned about your tardiness, and the truth would eventually have been discovered.

"If however he was continuing to work with the Order of Phoenix, then he would have been going against direct orders from me, seeing as I have told everyone who is aware of the happenings last year to avoid questions pertaining to the information inside the smashed globe. Doing so would mean that Severus would be questioning his own loyalty to our cause, and, as you said, served no purpose, seeing as I already know it."

"Are you saying that he only ever meant to see the bit he already knew?" Harry asked doubtfully.

Dumbledore nodded. "It would have been the only logical explanation, even if I hadn't questioned Severus myself."

And of course, Dumbledore trusted Snape.

"But he was the one that told Voldemort the start of the prophecy. He was the one that sent him after us! Me and my parents! He is the reason-"

"He is _one _of the reasons that your father, who had once saved his life, and your mother, a Muggleborn witch, are dead, and that Voldemort, like so many tyrants before him, has named you as the second party in the Prophecy, and in so doing, has given you the motive, and the tools you need to successfully oppose him. Yes Harry, I am well aware of how Professor Snape has affected your life whilst in the service of Lord Voldemort."

"But I saw him! He was kissing Voldemort's feet! I saw him Thursday night, I had a vision. And I know it was true – it wasn't a fake vision – I know it!"

"I am aware of what you saw." Dumbledore said quietly. "I have already been informed by both Professor Snape and Remus Lupin as to the scene in which you found yourself."

Snape had told him. He knew it: Snape had got his story in first, and now Dumbledore wouldn't allow a word to be said contrariwise.

"But I was there – the things he was saying, the way he looked – he said it with such conviction. He called you a Muggle lover, and was horrified at the idea that he might be helping you."

Dumbledore gave Harry a slight smile. "He has had to call me far worse to Voldemort before now, do not fear. You must understand that Professor Snape knows that if he makes the slightest mistake, is the smallest bit hesitant in any of his profusions, or is too quick or slow to make the correct move, then he will be discovered."

"But… when Voldemort found out I was there… he was telling Pr- Professor Snape that they had to make sure that you believed he was still working for you."

"Yes. Severus told me. Voldemort instructed him to relay some information to me which will result in a substantial achievement for our side. He also instructed Severus to tell me that it was because Voldemort wanted me to be sure he is still working with us."

"But what if Voldemort told him to tell you that too?" Harry asked.

"Quite so, Harry." Dumbledore said seriously. "You realise exactly how complicated this is. The three of us: Voldemort, Severus, and I; are involved in a supremely dangerous game, where the question of Severus' loyalty is paramount, for I do not for a second believe that Voldemort trusts him yet."

"And yet you trust him?" Harry said, in a voice which carried both disbelief and pleading. "Even after he caused Voldemort to kill Mum and Dad? Even after he caused Voldemort to try to kill me? Even after he has pledged his allegiance to Lord Voldemort again?

"Yes Harry, I trust him." Dumbledore said firmly. "You are not the only one to see the evil in that action. It was that grievous wrong that he committed towards you and your family that perhaps first caused him to consider his loyalty to Voldemort, and his own morals and beliefs. As for where his allegiance lies – you know quite as well as I do that the only man who can say for certain is Professor Snape, and the rest of us have differing levels of trust, founded on differing levels of knowledge."

Harry said nothing, but had an expression of deepest scepticism on his face. He knew he was being rude, but he didn't care when he next opened his mouth.

"Well I'm sorry sir, but how can you expect me to trust him after the things he's done without knowing any proof?"

There were sounds of dissent from the portraits in the office around them, but they fell silently immediately Dumbledore opened his mouth to say sharply.

"I have told you before, Harry that the reason I trust him is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

"Well, why did he want to see the start of the Prophecy if he already knew it then?" Harry said in frustration.

"I know how little you will like to hear it, but I cannot tell you much Harry. At present, as I have said, Professor Snape's life hangs by a thread – he is a spy in Lord Voldemort's ranks, and he is suspected. I repeat: Voldemort has not simply accepted him back. Severus is now forced to defend his mind without resorting to conventional Occlumency, or he knows that he will be killed. If anything was to come to his attention that might throw Severus' loyalty into question, then we both know what that would mean. You must trust me, Harry, and be satisfied."

"But what if you are wrong, sir? You and Voldemort are probably the two strongest wizards alive, and one of you has to be wrong."

"Very true, Harry, and one might at first glance think that I am more trusting, and therefore more easily fooled, is that not so?"

Harry opened his mouth but didn't say a word.

"It is a strange thing, perhaps, but for a clever man, it is easier to appear a loyal follower to a suspicious, perhaps even paranoid, mind, than to be a friend to somebody with similar intellect."

Dumbledore smiled as Harry tried to work out the slightly cryptic statement. There was a slight pause.

"Professor? If my Occlumency improves, will you then tell me why you are so sure he isn't a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "When you are able to protect yourself, I shall tell you as much as would be fair to his confidences Harry. You have my word. Until then, however, my assurances shall have to do."

It wasn't said in as many words, but Harry knew that any more questionings on the subject would not be kindly received. Dumbledore had humoured his impertinence for the last time. It was not necessarily the way he looked, or the inflections he placed on the words, or even the words themselves, but Harry got the message regardless.

"If it makes you feel slightly happier, then before you leave tonight, enter your memory of the vision last week into my Pensieve, and I promise you that I shall consider it thoroughly."

"Yes sir. Thank you."

"Maybe we can move onto Occlumency then; for you have been progressing excellently I hear."

"I thought I was getting better," Harry told Dumbledore, still feeling rather flattened by Dumbledore's rebuttals to his questions about Snape, "but I've had two visions in the last week. Maybe I'm not improving at all."

"Two?" Dumbledore questioned keenly.

"Yeah. I had one the night we came back here. I – I was having a nightmare, and then suddenly I was holding a wand at Bellatrix Lestrange, and was casting the Cruciatus curse. I don't remember much about it."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked, and he looked rather arrested by the information. "Were you perhaps thinking of Professor Snape and your altercation before you went to sleep?"

"Um, yeah." Harry told him uncertainly. "Why?"

"You may be interested to hear, Harry, that Bellatrix Lestrange was the one delegated with the task of bringing Professor Snape before Lord Voldemort. It is possible that you were unintentionally performing Legilimency yourself, and the fact that both Voldemort and your train of thoughts were similar caused you to invade his mind."

"So these things actually happened, and he really didn't want me to know?" Harry asked. "They weren't things he meant to show me, were they, like when he showed me the Thomases?"

"It is more than probable; as you are aware, Professor Snape was indeed in the company of Lord Voldemort on Thursday night - Friday morning, and Voldemort showed no signs of realising you were eavesdropping. Tell me – have you felt any pain in your scar since that night?"

"I – don't think so." Harry said, trying hard to remember. "But ever since we started these lessons in the summer it hasn't been as bad. Why?"

"Then I would suggest that proves it. I imagine Voldemort has started to constantly employ Occlumency against _you_. I have no doubt that he would normally have sensed the intrusion of your thoughts upon his, but perhaps he had his attention firmly upon his meeting with Severus, and did not notice your presence."

"So I don't need to keep learning Occlumency?" Harry asked.

"No, I believe that you do. The fact that Voldemort has decided to prevent accidental intrusions from one of you into the other's mind does not mean that he will not stage an intentional assault upon you."

It certainly wasn't a relief to Harry – that he should have to continue doing Occlumency, but in a strange sort of way, it would have been rather depressing if all of his work in the summer had been for nothing.

"Now. To business. Have you indeed decided upon your 'Sanctuary'?"

"Yes sir." Harry nodded. "It's the Arch room, you know, in the Department of Mysteries."

"Indeed?" An eyebrow raised, and Harry could sense that Dumbledore was slightly surprised. "May I ask why?"

"It's… complicated. I'm not entirely sure why myself, it's just… I know that it's right. I suppose, it's the memory I know best – I mean – I… was dreaming about it all summer, you know. It and Sirius. I just, I know everything about it. How high the steps are, how far the archway is from each door, how high the ceiling is. I, I'm sorry, I can't explain it properly." He looked away from Dumbledore, aware of how he had been rambling.

"No, please, go on." Dumbledore invited him. "How, er, how exactly did you know this was the right memory to choose?"

"It was – I woke up before I had the vision of S- Professor Snape, after I'd had another dream. I was dreaming of the night Sirius died – he was duelling with Bellatrix Lestrange. I had seen it so often, and not been able to do anything to stop it, but this time was different, I stepped forward, cast a spell at her, and she and Sirius just disappeared. I just – knew – then."

He looked back at Dumbledore who had a pensive look on his face. "It sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"Quite the opposite, Harry, quite the opposite. It reminds me, in fact, of the way that I came to my own decision." He looked at Harry intently, and Harry got the impression that he was thinking hard about something which he hadn't actually said. "No, I am very impressed Harry, very impressed indeed."

"Really?" Harry asked, and his spirits rose slightly.

"Yes, I am extremely proud of you Harry, not least for the memory you have chosen, as for exactly how far you have come in such a difficult subject over these last few months. I know it will not go to your head, if I say that I very much doubt whether many other people your age could have progressed quite as well as you have. Let alone with the tribulations you have had to endure during this time, as well.

"Now." Dumbledore continued, rubbing his hands together, and looking quite youthful all of a sudden, a remarkable turn around from earlier in their discussion. "Let us continue your training, and see just how far we can go."


	15. Good News, Bad News

**Chapter 15: Good News, Bad News**

The rest of the week seemed to fly by to Harry. He was used to everything that the teachers expected of him by now, even Aravenne, who seemed to have devoted the lesson corresponding with each day of the week to a different thing, or at least, it followed the routine of the last week, with tactics followed by duelling, followed by defensive spells (and the wordless casting of them now), and offensive spells (again, including the non-verbal casting of them). With the Advanced subject, they seemed to have adopted a more normal approach, as they continued to learn new offensive spells.

In fact, one of the most unexpected things to happen that week was in Potions, where, although Snape gave Harry some particularly evil looks, he was almost friendly. Or at least, he left Harry alone and did not pick on him as he normally did. The way he did it, could have been construed as being viciously icy, but from the point of view of how Snape usually treated him…

He did break from this pattern once: during Tuesday's lesson. As the double period wound down, Snape stepped forward from his patrol route to whisper, very quietly, in Harry's ear.

"That is twice your inability to protect yourself from the Dark Lord has served me favourably Potter, but I do not wish to test my luck a third time. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry kept his head down and continued to work as if he had not heard him, while he debated as to whether he should answer, and if so, how. Snape however had retreated, solving the problem for him. Even when he came to check Harry's antidotes for the poisons on offer this lesson, he made little comment, despite the fact that Harry's potions proved to be just short of satisfactory once more. (One produced a faded blue; the other had a hint of green.)

There was a ripple of excitement that spread through the DA members late on in the week when Harry altered the figures on his coin to detail the time and date of the first meeting that year, and he had to be quite firm when each different person came to ask him about what they were doing.

"It's like I said before." He told a beaming Susan Bones, who had appeared in order to corroborate what she had heard from Ernie Macmillan earlier that day, one free period. "We're going to have this one meeting to decide what we should do, and we'll work from there. This doesn't mean we're definitely doing it. You may not want to when you hear what I have to say."

"What?" Susan asked, her smiling face fading ever so slightly. "I know everyone in Hufflepuff is going to want to keep going with it Harry."

"Look, let's just wait until we can all talk together next week." Harry said resolutely.

It was when the weekend came, however, that the big news hit. Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived as usual that Saturday morning, and there was more than one excited voice in the Great Hall once the owls had been paid and sent back on their way by the recipients. Hermione spread the paper on the table so that Harry and Ron could read it.

_**Wizarding ****Britain**_**_ decides! Rufus Scrimgeour Elected new Minister of Magic._ **

Below it was a subheading:

**Head of the Auror Office Replaces Fudge as Ministry Supremo**

_As the final votes were tallied in secret this morning, anxious witches and wizards across the country waited with bated breath for the knowledge as to who exactly would be leading the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in the desperate struggle to keep their homes and children safe. This need was perhaps reflected by the voting, which led the highly respected defensive expert _Rufus Scrimgeour_ to be called to power. His promises to safeguard our country proved to be enough to secure a narrow victory over leading other candidate Alexander Maguire. _

The article then went on to detail the press conference held upon the news, including Scrimgeour's assurances of speedy action to counter He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's continued assaults on the public (_for latest details on recent attacks turn to page four_), the defeated candidates' belief that the important thing was to band behind the new Minister (despite some bitter comments from Maguire), and the exact details of the voting procedures, and the security measures that had been in place.

Harry noticed the article finished by mentioning that Fudge had been asked for a comment but had been nowhere to be seen. He couldn't say he was surprised however, he imagined that Fudge must harbour a rather deep resentment towards the Wizarding world at the moment. Supposedly, unfortunately, he had been asked by Scrimgeour to stay on in an advisory role to smooth over the process of change of Minster. Harry couldn't help but secretly hope that that was all it was, and Fudge had no hope of finding a cushy government job when that was finished.

"So he did get the job then." Ron said approvingly. "Isn't he the guy that Tonks and Kingsley wanted in?"

"Yeah." Harry said, "I guess that seeing as they've worked under him already they ought to know if he's any good or not."

"His campaign promises sounded a bit unachievable." Hermione said, removing her head from behind the paper which she had picked back up and begun to read more thoroughly.

"You mean you read all that rubbish they were spouting?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed disapprovingly. "Yes, Ron, I did. Did you just want the candidate with the best name to win?"

"No!" Ron said defensively. "But it's not like I had a vote, is it? I'll just ask the people who did, and find out what they are like that way!"

She rolled her eyes. "But anyway, he seems to have the right idea about fighting Voldemort. There's none of this um-ing and arr-ing of Fudge's, but rather plans for action. He says here that he is planning a complete reshuffle of personnel in the Ministry, and that everyone will have to undergo intensive scrutinising."

"I guess we better hope he listens to Dumbledore." Harry said. "But he may be too pigheaded like Fudge was, or be scared of making hard decisions."

"I would imagine he'd have to be able to make hard decisions." Hermione told him, sticking her head out once more. "He was the Head of all the Aurors after all."

"Since when did you get so suspicious, mate?" Ron asked.

"I've learnt to be wary of politicians." Harry replied dryly.

"It's about time we got someone elected though, isn't it?" Ron said. "I mean, the Ministry's been doing nothing for a month!"

"Yes, well we had to ma-" Hermione began, but she was interrupted by a shout of pain by Ron.

"OUCH! What was that f– Oh it's Errol!" An old, decrepit looking owl had just pecked Ron rather fiercely. "I didn't know you could still peck that strongly old thing."

There were two letters tied to Errol's leg, and Ron untied the one with his name on. Errol took flight once more, and landed at the other end of the table, next to Ginny. Ron glanced at the writing.

"Looks like it's from Mum." He told them, rubbing his arm. "She usually writes a bit sooner after we come back. I imagine she's been busy."

He unrolled the scroll and started reading it. As he did so, his eyes started to narrow, and Harry distinctly saw the words 'No way' form on his face.

"What is it Ron?"

Ron didn't answer, and only when he reached the end did he enlighten Harry on what the matter was.

"Percy." He said in disgust, stuffing the letter in his pocket.

"What has he done this time?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"He came knocking on the door of the Burrow three days ago, setting off all the intruder alarms and everything."

"Well what happened?" Harry asked impatiently.

"He apologised. Supposedly." Ron said as if he didn't believe a word of it.

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" Hermione cut in.

"Percy doesn't admit he's wrong." Ron told her. "I bet you he got wind of the fact that Scrimgeour would bring his own people in, and he thinks he's going to be without a job, so he wants Mum and Dad to take him in."

"Come on Ron." She said, as if he was being unreasonable. "Maybe he's just sorry and it took him a while to get the courage to say so."

"You didn't hear him in the summer." Ron said angrily. "Mum and Dad tracked him down to try and sort everything out. They thought that seeing as you and Dumbledore were proved right, Harry, he might come back home, and treat us all a bit more decently. But he yelled at them, and ended up threatening to call the Magical Law Enforcement Office to arrest them if they didn't leave. Mum was in tears when she came back."

"He didn't!" Harry said furiously.

"He did. And don't you remember what he wrote about Harry last year, Hermione? There's no way he means it, I tell you – he's just saying it to get back in with Mum and Dad in case he's out of work."

"Ron, he's your brother." Hermione said placatingly.

"Not after the things he's done. He wanted nothing to do with us, so let him I say. Being a Weasley is more than just blood you know."

"What did your parents say?" Harry asked.

"They accepted his apology." Ron spat. "He's going to be staying in the Burrow for a couple of weeks, and then will probably only spend weekdays in his own flat. I tell you, when I see him, I'm going to clock him one."

Ron stood up, and stormed off, leaving his untouched plate. Harry half rose to follow him, but Hermione reached over the table to grab his arm.

"Let him go." She advised him. "He just needs a bit of time to himself."

"How come that's a good idea for him, and yet it wasn't for me in the summer?" Harry asked her, slumping back down again.

"Because you wanted more than just a bit of time." Hermione told him gently. "He needs to think about it, and calm down. It's a family thing, either one of us would just get in the way."

Harry glanced towards Ginny, imagining her letter had similar information. She had obviously just seen Ron storm off, for she excused herself, and followed him.

"You know," Harry said to Hermione quietly, suddenly finding his own food less appealing. "I kept thinking this summer that Percy was an idiot for not wanting a family like the Weasleys, and thought everything would be fine if he only apologised, but looking at Ron I dunno."

"He just thinks that Percy has treated them all and you really badly, Harry, and he probably thinks that Percy should have had to do more than just say he's sorry. It's going to take a long time until Ron will trust him again. It'll be the same for Ginny and the twins, and probably Bill and Charlie too. It'll work out okay, Percy just needs to prove he's sorry to them."

"I hope you're right." Harry said glumly.

"I am. Trust me."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Neither Ron nor Ginny wanted to talk about Percy, and Harry followed Hermione's lead, and didn't raise it himself. It was only when they were putting their finishing touches to the new DA members' magical contract that Hermione mentioned it at all, and it was a quick conversation. Ron just grunted a 'yeah' to her entreaty to him to give Percy a chance, in case he did mean what he said. Surprisingly, to Harry, Hermione was willing to leave it at that for now.

They left the library, after returning the piles of books that they had withdrawn from the shelves, and Harry would have been quite happy not to see it again for the next couple of months. Rather than returning to Gryffindor Tower however, Hermione led them into a disused classroom, pulled out another piece of parchment, which looked exactly as it had looked when it had first been signed by the DA members, and as when Harry had last seen it, in Dumbledore's office.

"I rescued it last year." Hermione told them. "I summoned it from Umbridge's office after Dumbledore had had to leave the school. Now hang on."

Her face was racked with concentration for a moment or two, and she passed her wand over it, mumbling some words unintelligibly.

"There." She said triumphantly. "Oh no, I almost forgot:"

She did something else with her wand, placed the parchment down in the middle of the room, and, without verbalising the incantation, lit it.

Ron watched the smokeless fire burn through it. "I wonder what the reaction is in Ravenclaw right now?"

"They might not have noticed." Harry sniggered. "Marietta Edgecombe has so much make-up on, they might not know until this evening."

Hermione had a glum expression on her face. "I put so much work into that, and now it's gone."

"Cheer up Hermione," Ron said, "you got to make an even more devious one."

"_We _did." Hermione said. "Where on earth did you hear of that tracking charm Harry? Even Madam Pince had difficulty trying to find a book with it in."

"Oh." Harry said, he hadn't told either her or Ron about the Marauders' Map yet. "I was just talking to Moony – it's a spell my father used a few times."

It wasn't a lie – he had been talking to Moony… and Padfoot, and Prongs. He had the sudden inspiration that they might have some suggestions as to possible charms to use, and it was his father's younger self that had suggested the Vestigo tracking charm as a place to begin. They had used a version of it to map people onto parchment, and the fact that it worked was evidenced by their map.

Prongs seemed to have taken it for granted now that Harry was telling the truth, and he and Padfoot, backed up by Moony, insisted that although they couldn't stop Pettigrew listening to things that were said, they could prevent him from writing. As a result, he could never betray Harry's confidences, but they also assured him that the Wormtail they knew would never do that anyway. Although Harry wasn't completely reassured by this, it had meant he had started to be less reserved in their discussions.

In fact, the way that Prongs had started to ask questions and show interest in Harry, it would have been hard for Harry not to talk about himself a bit more. It was remarkable how charming and persuasive he could be when he was talking about other people, and the bombshell that Harry had released – via Padfoot – had triggered it. On the other side of the coin, drawn love-hearts now appeared around the map if Harry used it, which invariably had J. P. and L. E. close by, showing two sides to James' maturity.

It wasn't that Harry didn't trust either Ron or Hermione with the knowledge that the map wasn't just a map, far from it. But he had a slight dread of what Hermione might say, or Merlin forbid, Ginny, if they found out he was talking to a magical object, and taking its advice. Even if it was something created by the Marauders. And there was something else… Harry knew it was slightly selfish, but he wanted to keep Sirius and his father to himself for now.

There was a bit of stir the next morning, when Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe walked through the Great Hall doors for breakfast. One person noticed the change, whispered to their neighbour, and pretty soon everyone was staring at Marietta's face. It did not take long for the faces to turn to look at Hermione, Ron, and Harry, for the school knew (unofficially) that it had been Hermione's doing in the first place.

Marietta was smiling happily, although she still didn't seem to want to show her face too much, even though it was minus the spots. She sat down at the Ravenclaw table and immediately started talking to one of the girls already there. Cho, however, rather than sitting down, walked over to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Thank you, Harry." She said rather breathlessly.

"What for?" He asked coolly. "We didn't have much choice; we wouldn't have removed the hex if it was possible. Anyway, it wasn't me that removed it, it was Hermione."

Cho looked rather taken aback. She glared at Hermione, to Harry's right, before saying rather stiffly. "Thank you then."

She turned back to Harry before Hermione could say anything. " Marietta's learnt from her mistake, Harry, I promise she won't do it again."

"I'd rather not have to find out." Harry said shortly.

"We can still be friends though, can't we?" Cho pressed.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I guess that depends on you. Are you going to introduce me to more people who want to betray us?"

Cho looked rather stricken. "I'm sorry Harry, truly I am. But I didn't do anything! What did you expect me to do? Stop talking to someone I've known since I was six because she made a mistake? You want me to give up her friendship for you, Harry?"

"You be friends with whoever you want," Ron said, "just don't expect Harry to hang around people who like stabbing him in the back."

Cho looked like she wanted to snap at Ron, but was holding herself back. She stood there for a couple of seconds, before turning back to Harry again.

"Can we still go to this DA meeting though? I mean, will you let us –"

" Marietta isn't wanted there." Harry said stonily.

"But I can come? You won't throw me out or anything."

"I don't know what everyone else will think, but I guess you can be there on Saturday." Harry told her. "You're the one who dragged Marietta along, aren't you? I don't know if people will want you there. But you can come along and see I guess."

"I can?" Cho said, face brightening, "You won't stop me coming? Thank you Harry."

"I suppose we'll see you Saturday then Cho." Hermione said frostily, putting her arm around Harry.

Cho's momentarily happy look vanished, and she muttered a hurried goodbye, and stormed away. Hermione removed her arm immediately Cho's back turned, but made sure to glare at Cho as she sat down.

"What was that for Hermione?" Ron said grumpily.

"I just thought Harry might want a hand getting rid of her, that was all." Hermione said, grinning wickedly.

Ginny wandered up to them a minute later, as Dean made his way out of the hall with Seamus. She sat down beside her brother.

"What was that all about?" Ginny nodded across to the Ravenclaw table.

"She wanted to thank us for getting rid of her friend's zits." Harry told her succinctly.

"That all, or have you and Hermione been hiding something from us all?" She grinned.

Harry sniggered, and Hermione answered her.

"Cho still has her eye on Harry, and, er, as Harry doesn't return it, I scared her away."

"That sounds like something I'd do, not you. I must be a good influence." Ginny said cheerily. "So Edgecombe isn't going around with 'SNEAK' written on her forehead anymore. Pity."

The three of them spent the rest of breakfast explaining to her what exactly they had been doing for the last fortnight.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Well, hi." Harry said slightly awkwardly, looking around the Room of Requirement.

He felt a little silly as his eyes fell upon the faces of each member of the DA, sitting on settees and armchairs that the room had provided for them. He had been thinking about what he should say for days now, but he had neglected to consider how he would start it all off. The eyes of everybody in the room rested upon him, he had their complete attention.

"Um, well, as you know I wasn't sure if we should keep this going this year or not. I told most of you that we should wait and see if the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was any good."

"He is." Little Dennis Creevey piped up.

"But that doesn't mean we should stop doing the DA." His older brother, Colin, added.

"Yeah. That's what most people said to me." Harry admitted. "But that wasn't the only reason I didn't think we should keep it going."

Harry paused. He knew what he ought to say, but was having trouble saying it.

"All of us learnt a lot from you last year Harry," Ernie Macmillan began formally, "and I for one, think that we need to learn all we can if we are to have a chance to fight against You-Know-Who's Death Eaters."

There were murmurs of assent from the other people in the room. Zacharias Smith wasn't one of them, but he was one of the few that weren't. Hermione, Ron and Ginny didn't, of course, because Harry already knew all too well what their decisions were going to be, and he had made them swear not to influence other people's decisions. Beside Ginny, both Dean and Seamus were silent also.

"What you taught us last year meant we had some chance of fighting back against them." Neville said, speaking up. "If you teach us more things we'll have an even better chance."

In a way, Harry was grateful Neville had spoken up, for it gave him an opening to start to explain.

He gave a lopsided smile to Neville, before turning to the room at large. "Thanks Neville. I guess you all know that Neville, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and me ended up fighting Voldemort's Death Eaters after our O.W.L.s. You guys were amazing, and if the DA helped then I'm glad, but…" He took a deep breath. "I was the reason we were all in danger in the first place. It was my fault we went to the Ministry, and we walked straight into a trap of Voldemort. Even if I did help you with some of the spells, you wouldn't have had to use them if it wasn't for me."

Nobody said anything, and Harry felt glad of it. It was strange, but actually admitting that it had all been his fault like that, and not hearing anyone object, made him feel a bit better. It was as if he had just unloaded a guilty conscience.

"Why?" A voice asked snidely – Zacharias Smith.

"Why was it my fault?" Harry replied. "I told you, I was tricked into going to the Ministry by Voldemort, and led us into a trap."

Zacharias winced visibly at the name of Voldemort, but continued nonetheless. "Why did _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ want to trick you in the first place?" He asked, putting stress on the words used instead of Voldemort's name.

"His name is Voldemort." Harry said fiercely. "He wants you to be scared of his name, so if you want to fight against him, why do what he wants you to? If you don't want to fight him, what are you doing here?"

Zacharias didn't look away. "Why did he want to trick you?"

"Shut up, Smith." Ron said hotly, "It's none of your business."

Zacharias bristled, but Harry cut in before an argument was started. "No, it's okay Ron. You want to know why he wanted to trick me? He wants me dead. That's why. He tried to kill me when I was a baby, he tried in first year, _and_ the last two years. I'm still here. Do you really think he wants me to still be alive?"

"Fine. But why did he want to kill you when you were a baby then?"

"Now that _is_ none of your business." Cho Chang said angrily.

"Who asked you?" Michael Corner said just as furiously. "He has more of a right to be here than you. _He_ wasn't the one that told Umbridge about the DA, was he?"

"Nor was she, and I didn't see you complaining after our Quidditch match against Gryffindor last year." Terry Boot said acidly.

Harry wondered about what he was referring to, until he remembered Ginny mentioning that Cho and Michael Corner were going out when they were going home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry looked at Hermione in desperation. He couldn't think of a thing to stop this degenerating into a brawl.

As soon as she took the hint, a whistle appeared in Hermione's hand, and she blew it shrilly. All arguments stopped.

"I thought that when we founded the DA, it was to fight against Voldemort, not each other." She said tartly. "How about we let Harry speak?"

She seemed quite unconcerned by the mutinous faces turned in her direction.

"Thanks Hermione." Harry said gratefully. "Why did he want to kill me when I was an infant? Guess. That's what I had to do ever since I found out. Does it really matter? He tried to kill me, and didn't. No-one really knows for certain why not, but he's going to want to kill me to prove it was a fluke, isn't he?"

"But that's the point, isn't it?" Harry continued, before anyone could say a word. "Voldemort wants me dead, and he's going to want anyone that's friends with me dead too. If you all are part of the DA, he's going to think that you're my friend, so he's going to go after you."

"We're all in danger anyway." Hannah Abbott said. "That's why we wanted to learn from you in the first place. None of us are going to side with You-Know-Who, so he's going to want us all dead."

"True." Harry told her, "But think about it, for most people here, he hasn't got any reason to go after you yet, has he? He's at least as likely to go after other people. With the rest of you," here he looked at Neville, Luna, Hermione and the two Weasleys, "if you were to quit the DA, and distance yourself from me, you'd be okay too."

"Not going to happen." Ron muttered audibly. Most of the people in the room seemed to agree with him.

"How is You-Know-Who meant to know if we're doing the DA or not?" Susan Bones asked.

"The Slytherins. We know most of their parents are Death Eaters, don't we? Well they know which of us were in the DA, and you know they're going to find out if we're still going, now they know we exist."

Harry took another deep breath. "Look. If we are going to keep doing the DA, then all of you are going to be in danger from Voldemort. He might kill you, torture you, put you under the Imperius curse, and trust me; you don't want any of those things to happen. He might even go after your family."

Harry didn't look at Dean. There was another silence as it sunk in.

"And if we want to fight him regardless?" Katie Bell asked.

"Then I guess we keep doing the DA."

"I'd like to keep going." Luna said from a corner.

"Me too." Susan Bones added.

"You know we're all with you Harry." Ron said, indicating the five that had gone to the Ministry with him.

Harry grimaced inside. He had expected someone at least to leave. Time to play his last card.

"Hermione has a piece of paper." He said carefully. "Anyone who wants to keep doing this should sign it, to say they promise to never help Voldemort."

"Sure." Dennis Creevey said eagerly.

"Hang on." Zacharias said dubiously, as Hermione passed the parchment to Harry, and a self inking quill appeared in his hand. "Are we entering some kind of agreement we don't know about, like before?"

Harry celebrated internally, but remained outwardly calm. "It's as I said, if you sign this, you are promising to never help Voldemort, no matter what. Which means, among other things, that you're saying you'll never give any of us away to him, but also, that if you do anything to try and help him, anything at all, then this agreement will kick in."

"It's the intent that causes the jinxes to activate." Hermione supplied.

"Jinxes?" Cho asked nervously, picking up on the use of the plural.

"What do they do?" Hannah Abbott demanded.

"One of them immediately tells Harry who set it off. The others… well, we don't want to say in case someone thinks they can get around them somehow." Hermione told them serenely.

"Don't you trust us?" Lavender Brown said.

"Yes." Harry told her. "But I trusted everyone last year too."

Everyone turned to look at Cho again.

"Well I'm going to sign it now, because there is no way I'll ever help Voldemort in any circumstances." Harry told them all. "But I don't expect any of you to, or even make up your minds straight away. We only have until ten here, or Filch might catch us up after curfew, but that gives you a bit of time to think about it, anyway."

"What if You-Know-Who forces us to help him?" Anthony Goldstein asked.

"Then it will activate." Harry told him. "Signing this promises that if he tortures you, you don't tell him anything, if he uses the Imperius curse, you fight him, and if he tries to persuade you, you don't listen. And trust me. It isn't as easy as it sounds."

"What if he goes after your family?" Seamus demanded from beside Dean.

"Then it will activate." Harry told him, not looking at the person sitting to Seamus' side. "I know it's not-"

"Easy for you to say. You don't have any family." Zacharias said from across the room.

"No. I don't." Harry said angrily. "And you know why? Because Voldemort killed them. You know why he killed them? Because he wanted to. He didn't have to kill them if he didn't want to, but he did anyway. You think he's going to make a deal with you so that your family isn't hurt? Well he will, and then he won't keep his end of the bargain. If Voldemort feels like killing someone, he'll kill them no matter what promise he makes."

"So you expect us to sign this parchment, so that we swear not to help You-Know-Who even if it means our family die?" The Hufflepuff said.

"Hey!" Ginny said fiercely. "In case you didn't notice, it was Harry that was saying he didn't think we should keep doing this."

"Pass me the parchment Harry." Ron said, glaring at Zacharias. "I want to sign it."

"Well I don't." Anthony Goldstein said, standing up. "I'm sorry Harry, it's not that I don't want to fight _him_ or his Death Eaters, but I'm not putting my family in danger."

"It's okay." Harry told him. "I don't want to put them or you in danger either, but I was persuaded that it was your choice to make, not mine." He looked towards Ron and Hermione without even realising it.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, and then walked out the door.

"If anyone else wants to go, I don't blame you." Harry told the room at large. "I probably would in your situation."

"The people I care about are already in danger." Susan Bones said slowly. "If I can learn to protect myself and them better, then it's worth it."

"I agree Susan, well said." Ernie said pompously.

"I need to think about it some more." Padma Patil said. "You said we have until ten, right?"

And so began a period of muttered conversation, and general quiet, which, to Harry's shock, resulted in not one of them deciding to follow Anthony Goldstein out the door, not even Zacharias Smith, Cho Chang, or Dean Thomas.

"Okay." He said, as the last person (Zacharias) put quill to paper. "I th-"

"Harry?" Hermione interrupted. "Can I?"

"Sure." He said, sitting back down.

"Okay. Can everyone give me their Galleon?" She asked. "I had better redo the charm so that neither of the other coins work. It's safer that way."

"When are we going to meet next then?" Ernie asked.

"Shall we say eight next Saturday?" Harry suggested.

People started to file solemnly out of the door, and made their way back to their common rooms. Dean looked loath to go, and in fact told the people around him (Seamus, Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati Patil) to go without him. Getting the feeling Dean wanted to say something to him, Harry told Ron and Hermione to likewise meet him later. When they were the last two people in the room, Dean approached.

"Look, Harry." He began and then stopped.

Harry stood there feeling awkward. He had no idea what Dean was going to say. If he were Dean he'd probably hate his, Harry's, guts, but yet Dean was now on the Quidditch team with Harry, and he even wanted to keep on with the DA.

"Harry." Dean tried again. "I'm sorry mate, I know it's not your fault. You didn't ask You-Know-Who to attack Mum and A-"

"You don't need to apologise." Harry interrupted. "I may not have asked him to, but he did, anyway."

"Yeah, well you've done nothing wrong." Dean said determinedly, "All you've done is stay alive when he tried to kill you. I just want to say I'm with you. I'm not going to give V- Vol," he looked frustrated, and screwed himself up in a tremendous effort, "Voldemort what he wants."

Harry didn't know what to say. He had always liked Dean, and it seemed that Dean really took him seriously, if that sentence Harry had said to Zacharias Smith had caused Dean to not only forgive him, but also say Voldemort's name.

"Thanks." He decided upon finally, and added quite honestly. "I don't know if I could have said that."

Dean gave a small grin. "Yeah you could, it's just getting the guts to say it. It's taken me since before the Quidditch tryouts."

Harry laughed, suddenly feeling extremely happy.

"There's something else Harry." And Dean looked awkward once more. Harry wondered if he had been trying to say this for weeks as well.

"Last Christmas, in our dorm… You had a dream, didn't you? Where you saw Ron's dad being attacked. At least, that's what you said. And he was attacked, wasn't he? Was it You-Kn- Vol- Voldemort?"

Harry said nothing. He didn't know what to say, and that much was obvious just by looking at him.

"It's just," Dean continued, suddenly scared, "I was wondering, after what you said in the train, if Ginny didn't tell you… did you… did you see what happened, what happened to- to my family?"

The happy feeling in Harry's stomach had suddenly been replaced by nausea. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out of it.

"I need to know what happened, Harry. They Obliviated Mum, and Lucy and David, all I know is that they were attacked. What happened? What did he do to them? You saw it, didn't you?" Dean pressed.

Harry sat down in a chair, which appeared behind him as he fell backwards.

"Yes." He muttered. "Some of it." He looked up, and added, painfully. "But please, don't tell anyone."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dean's wish to know what had happened surprised Harry slightly. He personally had not wanted to witness his parents' death at the hands of Voldemort, when he had had it forced upon him. It wasn't something he wanted to go through again either, and yet Dean had wanted more and more details, as if he was storing them up inside, so he knew exactly what Voldemort and his Death Eaters had done. Perhaps it was because Voldemort had never done anything directly to Dean? Harry, of course, seemed to have had little but things done to him by Voldemort since he learnt about the Wizarding world.

By the time they had finished their conversation, it was well past the time they were allowed to move around in the corridors, but they managed to avoid Filch and Mrs Norris on the way back to Gryffindor Tower – although they did run into Crookshanks once. Most people had gone to bed when they came back, although Hermione and Ron were both still up, as were Seamus and Ginny, all of them with rather enquiring gazes. Harry and Dean both grinned at them, but didn't elaborate on what they had talked about, but rather professed tiredness and a wish for bed.

When Harry next went to Dumbledore's office, as the next week started, he fully expected to continue working on places to store his memories in the vicinity of the Arch room, and in particular the area of naming the places the memories were stored. As Harry found out when Dumbledore had begun to seriously probe his mind, his cupboards had been named a bit too descriptively to fool anyone. He was quite right, in that they did begin to tackle this problem, but not however, before Dumbledore produced another piece of news.

"I assured Madam Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, our new Minister, that I would give you this." He told Harry, passing him a scroll with the Ministry's seal upon it. "I fancy you may consider it both good news, and yet a cause for slight apprehension." He continued, as Harry opened it.

_Dear Mr Potter, _

_Further to our discussion on the seventeenth of July, I am writing to inform you that the inquest into the alleged innocence of Sirius Black has now commenced. As part of our investigation, we shall require you to give testimony on Saturday the ninth of November at __eleven a.m.__ Following discussions with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and your magical guardian, Headmaster Dumbledore of __Hogwarts_ _School__, he shall escort you to the appropriate room, where he shall interrogate you with the use of Veritaserum, as agreed. _

_Yours sincerely,  
__Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement Office._

"So this is our chance to clear Sirius?" Harry asked.

"It is." Dumbledore nodded. "I might add that I believe our chances of success are high indeed. The public wish at the moment to hear that the problems in Cornelius Fudge's, and other previous regimes are being put right, so it is in Minister Scrimgeour's interest to find Sirius innocent."

"But we have to make sure that Sirius stays innocent." Harry said, slightly worried. "If people think it is just a political thing, then they might not believe it."

"Precisely. There is also, of course, the fact that Madam Bones has little patience for the manipulation of justice for politics' sake, which means that we shall nevertheless have to be convincing. However, thanks to your quick thinking when it came to who could ask you questions whilst undergoing Veritaserum, I believe we can prove his innocence without a shadow of a doubt, and without reference to certain delicate subjects which may have otherwise cropped up."

"What will I have to do?" Harry asked.

"Very little." Dumbledore assured him. "I shall ask you questions, which you shall be compelled to answer, and seeing as you will not be able to hear anybody else's words, there is thus little for you to worry about. I shall escort you to the Ministry of course, and shall be with you the whole time, so there is little reason for you to concern yourself."

"The ninth of November though?" Harry said, rereading the letter. "That's over a month away, why is it taking so long?"

"Yours will be the last piece of evidence that is collected, Harry. They shall first be re-examining the evidence at the trial, and new evidence that has come to light regarding his activities since his escape from Azkaban. Kingsley shall be of great help there, seeing as he was the man in charge of the hunt for Sirius. It is indeed a while until your interview, Harry, but a little foreknowledge is never a bad thing."

"When will they make up their mind do you think?" Harry asked.

"I would have thought that we shall know before a fortnight will have passed. Now that that knowledge has been communicated, perhaps we can return to the main reason you are here. Occlumency." Dumbledore said, smiling.

To Harry's disappointment, it appeared that the names of the areas of storage was something else that Dumbledore wanted him to decide to himself, so he had no sooner had one revelation than he needed another. They did, however, agree that the only conceivable areas to store the memories were behind the doors. Seeing as there were not enough doors in the original room for this purpose, Harry thought back to the dream in which he had had his epiphany, and had another bright idea.

"What if each of the doors I go through lead me into a different room that looks the same, until there is enough space to fit each type of memory in?" He asked Dumbledore.

"Good Harry, good. Now, what problems might this create that you need to work out?"

Harry thought for a bit. "I suppose I'd almost be making a maze, so I'd need to make sure I could find my own way around really easily."

"How would you do that?"

"I suppose I could learn my way around, kind of like making a map." Harry suggested, shooting a glance at Dumbledore.

"You could, but where would you store your memory of the routes to take?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh." Harry said. "I didn't think of that. So… what you mean, is I need to find my way around in a way other than just simply memory?"

"Exactly!" Dumbledore said jubilantly. "And how can you do that?"

"I dunno." He thought for a bit. How could he find his way around? He'd almost need signposts. He groaned. "It's the markings I decide to put on the doors, isn't it? I need to find something that I associate with the right way to go, and that someone else wouldn't."

"Correct." Dumbledore said, his beard twitching as if he could feel the indignation coming from Harry, and found it rather amusing.

"But why couldn't you have just told me that?" Harry complained. "I mean, we were just talking about that, I know I have to find out how to mark them."

"I could have told you." Dumbledore agreed. "But some lessons are best learnt on your own. As I said when we began our time together, I will not tell you what to do, but rather point you in the right directions to take. Besides, the thought process needed to work things like this out is just as important to know as the answer. So, can you perceive any other problems that might arise with your different rooms?"

By the time Harry left Dumbledore's office, his head was aching. Since they had reached Hogwarts, the lessons had turned into sessions that demanded use of logic and more logic, and while Dumbledore pointed him towards possible mistakes in his thinking, he was never actually told them directly, until he discovered them himself. He wasn't sure why it popped into his head, but it occurred to him, that Hermione might love the subject of Occlumency if she were to learn it.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

September started to fail, as did the last of the sunny weather, which meant that Harry's attention soon moved onto the first Quidditch match of the year: the early November match against Slytherin. With just a month to go, Ron was fast becoming as cruel a taskmaster as they had had as a Quidditch Captain. Only Oliver Wood had arranged more training sessions a week as far as Harry could remember, and that was only in third year, where it had been the Keeper's last chance to win the Quidditch Cup. This was Ron's first game of the season.

Ron's reasoning, and Harry had to admit that it was valid, was that most of the team had never played together, and Ron placed great importance on teamwork. Despite the added sessions, there was no risk that they might get sick and tired of training drills, however, for the fact they had reserves proved to be an important addition to their training sessions: Ron was actually able to recreate match situations for his players, and get the Chasers and Beaters combining exactly as he wanted. They would also often stage a practice match as well.

As for Harry's lonely role as Seeker, having another person trying to catch the Snitch gave him far better match practice than ever before. He would almost always beat Emily Crowley to the Snitch, but from the point of view of pure flying ability, she was good. It was his Firebolt, and added experience that gave him the edge, but she was learning fast.

Ron's passion for teamwork came to the fore here too, as he set the Beaters and Seekers together, so that the Beaters could, by one successful move, give the Seeker the chance they might need to catch the Snitch. There was one move that Ritchie Coote performed while protecting Emily, which caught Harry in the ribs with a Bludger. Luckily, Harry had seen it coming at the last second, and rolled with the hit, so that his ribs were just a little tender, rather than broken. He had a feeling Madam Pomfrey might try to ban him from Quidditch entirely if he had to see her after Quidditch practices as well as matches.

"Nice one." Harry called to the Beater, wincing.

Ritchie grinned. "Give me the chance, and I'll get Malfoy for you when we play them. You knew it was coming, he won't – let's see him take the hit."

"Do that, and you'll be my friend for life." Harry told the younger Gryffindor. "Hit him in the head, and you'll be in my will!"

Ritchie winked as Emily Crowley grasped the Snitch in her hand, far above them. "I'd nail him for free, but thanks."

Harry, Emily, and the four Beaters took up their positions once more, and began the practice again. This time, the first year was forced away thanks to Seamus' well aimed bludgeon, although she avoided any physical contact. Harry knew that Dean in particular felt a little guilty at smashing a Bludger at someone so much younger than him, but opposition Beaters in a match wouldn't, so she had to get used to it.

Ron meanwhile was leading the Chasers in a practice designed to encourage manoeuvres such as the Loganstock's Leap that he had alluded to when given the captaincy. Unfortunately, Romilda Vane was still pretty hopeless, and Ron wanted to organise at this point in time, rather than play as Keeper. That would come later in the training session. Still, the Chasers seemed to have built up a good relationship with each other, even the reserves.

Before their first Quidditch match, however, was Halloween, and before that, was their first Hogsmeade weekend. Fred and George had written to Ron to suggest that they all meet up over a drink in the Three Broomsticks, seeing as they needed the break from work. Harry didn't believe it. He imagined that there could be only one reason they wanted to meet up, and that was on an order from the Order to look after Harry. Hermione suggested they wanted to talk about Percy to Ron and Ginny, which was, he acknowledged finally, another possibility.

Ginny, however, quickly told them that she probably wouldn't be there, as she and Dean were planning to do something. Again, this could mean one of two things. Either she didn't want to talk about Percy, or else, and Harry had a suspicion that this could be closer to the truth, she didn't want to be near her brothers, whilst going out with her boyfriend. Not only might her brothers be a little protective of Ginny, but Fred and George in particular, would tease her mercilessly in front of Dean.

No, she and Dean would likely go to Madam Puddifoot's, Harry thought, wincing slightly as he thought of the place. Still, even if Cho still fancied him as Hermione said, at least she hadn't suggested going out to Hogsmeade, and that accursed place, together again. He half wondered if the cherubs and confetti that he remembered so well were a Valentine's Day only thing, or if they happened to be resident throughout the year.

Still. He was looking forward to seeing Fred and George again, whether they were only there because Dumbledore wanted to protect Harry or not. He thought he might, if given the chance, ask exactly what they had done to use the map in the first place. He was interested to see what tests they had had to pass to get his father and friends to trust them. Unfortunately, that time was a long way away, although the things they were doing before it were definitely interesting.

During this time, for example, they had the matter of Apparition lessons, as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the other lessons, to do. Harry found the advertising for the Apparition lessons quite ironic. Ministry of Magic posters screamed at them that Apparition could be the most important defensive technique to use when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Death Eaters came calling, and yet in small writing on each of the lists students could sign to indicate they wished instruction, was written: 'Cost 12 Galleons'. Hermione and Ron both told him he was being cynical, but Harry found it hard to trust the Ministry to actually look out for the people it represented after last year, even if Fudge had gone, and a new Minister had arrived in his place.

They had had two Apparition lessons before the Hogsmeade trip, and after them, only Hermione seemed to be showing much progress, and even she still splinched herself regularly (which Harry found out wasn't actually as painful as it had sounded to him when described by Mr Weasley). She assured them it was just a matter of concentrating hard enough, and Harry made a mental note to try some of his Occlumency techniques when they next had a lesson.

Harry was finding his Occlumency techniques were coming in handy in a lot of situations in fact. His attempts to become a Magi in Defence Against the Dark Arts were fast improving as a result of their usage, and in Potions, they were remarkably successfully at helping him ignore Snape. That wasn't quite the problem it once was however, and Harry imagined that it was because of the words Dumbledore had had with Snape after the start of the school year. After all, if Snape was a Death Eater, Voldemort had probably ordered him to obey Dumbledore's orders to the letter when it came to Harry, hadn't he?

They were of no help whatsoever in Charms mind, for practical Charms lessons tended to be the best place to have a discussion without being heard, and Harry by no means had the mental discipline to resist that yet. It was a shame, because they were continuing to learn charms that could be used in practical first-aid situations, and they remained as complicated as ever, even if Hermione had now progressed to be streets ahead of anyone else.

Likewise in Transfiguration, although Harry suspected that the subject may just be too complicated for him with or without the techniques he used to help his concentration. Still, his wish to become an Auror looked like it might succeed or fail on both Transfiguration and Potions, so he struggled gamely on. As for Herbology – well – he would never have the green fingers of a Neville, but he was getting through it. To be fair, no-one in the class had the abilities of Neville when it came to Herbology, he seemed to have some strange ability to quieten any vicious plant he was around, and get any plant to do whatever he wanted.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The Saturday of the Hogsmeade weekend came finally, and when they eventually got through the increased security, they set off towards the bigger of the two pubs in Hogsmeade. Ron complained bitterly about Filch and the delight he took in prodding and poking them with all manner of different security equipment.

"Honestly!" He told them. "What does it matter if we were to smuggle Dark stuff _out_ of Hogwarts, wouldn't that be a good thing anyway?"

Harry and Hermione allowed Ron to continue complaining for most of the walk to Hogsmeade, grinning at each other as he did. When they reached the Three Broomsticks, they had to struggle rather to get inside. It was absolutely packed.

"Funny, isn't it?" He said to Hermione and Ron. "I'd have thought that now they know Voldemort's about, people wouldn't want to be out that much, but I can't see a free table."

"Yes," Hermione said back quietly, "it is a bit. But maybe the fact that Voldemort is back means that they feel they need a drink."

Harry looked at her. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing else.

"Fred and George aren't here yet." Ron told them, ignoring the conversation. "Look, those people are going, let's sit down quick, before someone else gets the table."

They squeezed through to the table, and sat down, beating a group of Ravenclaw fourth years to it. They scowled at them, but quickly turned away, looking for another table.

"Sorry guys, but we got here first." Ron called to them quickly. "Shall one of us get the drinks, while the other two sit here?"

"I'll go." Harry said hastily. "Three Butterbeers?"

"Not like we can have anything stronger is it? Madam Rosmerta would never serve us. Hermione could though, she's of age."

"No, all I fancy is a Butterbeer anyway." Hermione said complacently.

Fred and George didn't take long to show up, wearing clothes designed to get attention. It didn't look like they were wearing Dragon hide this time, but their outfits were still ridiculously shiny, and probably had a chance of blinding you if you looked at them in bright sunlight. Before long, they were sitting at the table with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but with a couple of large glasses containing a honey coloured concoction.

"What's that?" Ron asked them eagerly.

"Madam Rosmerta's own mulled mead. It's good – try some." Fred offered.

Hermione declined with a face of stiff disapproval, but Ron and Harry eagerly accepted. As soon as he took a sip, a warm sensation spread down Harry's throat, and into each of his limbs. He suddenly found himself feeling a lot more relaxed. He had never experienced a taste like it before, but he enjoyed it immensely.

"It _is_ good." He said, returning the glass to George.

George winked at him. "Sure you won't have any Hermione? I tell you, it's better than most of that Muggle stuff."

"Quite sure." She said shortly.

"Who's looking after your shop?" Harry asked, feeling sure that they would not have closed it, with their love of making money.

"Verity's looking after it." Fred told him. "She's got a good business brain that one."

"And she's a bit of a looker." George supplied.

"True." His twin mused. "Oops, sorry Hermione." He smirked at her expression of exasperation.

"Shop's going well then?" Ron asked.

"Well, given that you are looking at the Entrepreneurs of the Month, according to the Daily Prophet's business section, you could say that."

"You're joking." Ron said, impressed.

"Not at all Ron, we gave our interviews yesterday. Now we're just going to have to decide where to put the certificate without harming our shop display window."

"You gave an interview to the Daily P-"

"Look, Harry." Fred interrupted. "You didn't want any of the publicity that Skeeter woman gave you – we do. We want to make a statement to the public, make sure everyone knows about us: the more outrageous the interview the better. Plus we threw in some of our insights into You-Know-Who too. That's sure to get us publicity. Maybe even move us into the main paper rather than the business section."

Ron and Harry laughed, but Hermione looked rather worried. "You didn't? Voldemort won't let you get away with that, he'll come after you, you do know that?"

"You sound like our mother." George laughed. "If you're scared stiff of saying or doing anything, then what's the point of living? So what if he wants to come after us? It means he isn't going after other people like you guys then, doesn't it? Don't worry about us – we have plenty of plans made if we need them."

"You sound like Harry." Hermione said in irritation. "If they come after me, then other people are safe."

"Well it's true." Fred said. "And you won't make us change our minds Hermione, so drop it. The interview's done anyway. Oh! Speaking of the shop, take a look at this, one of our newer inventions."

He laid a gold locket on the table. The three of them eyed it carefully. They touched it, poked it, and prodded it gingerly, but none of them wanted to open the unknown item.

"What is it?" Ron said cautiously.

"Well we haven't decided on the name of it yet. We were thinking of calling it The Amulet of Love, but that's just a name that we've thrown about. A beauty, isn't it?" Fred said.

"What does it do?" Hermione asked, just as suspiciously as Ron.

"Open it and have a look and see." George said mischievously.

"No way. I haven't only just met you two you know." Ron and Harry shook their heads vehemently too.

"Fine." George sounded disappointed. "When you look into the amulet, if you really fancy someone – not just a small thing mind – but _really_ fancy them, then their face appears on the mirror inside."

"What then?" Hermione asked.

"Well, at the moment, the image fades away once the amulet is closed, but we're considering making it permanent. We're going to make it part of our 'Sixteens and Over' section, where we have the love potions and things. It has a double appeal you see, I mean, how romantic is it to see your own face magically appear in your true love's locket? And if it doesn't…" George said.

"Well, that has a different appeal, doesn't it?" Fred finished. "Here, give it a go."

"Not until you two use it first." Hermione said firmly. "I want to make sure it fades."

Fred and George smiled knowingly at one another. "Seems a touchy subject for you Hermione, don't you want the people at this table to know or something?"

Hermione went a shade of pink.

"Well, Fred, if one of us has to do it, you'd better. I am alas single, and-"

"Have your eye on more than one person." Fred finished with a grin. "Right-o, pass it over here Hermione."

Hermione pushed it towards him without picking it up. Fred rubbed his hands, opened it, and then without a trace of embarrassment, showed them the girl whose face adorned the mirror.

"Verity." He said promptly, closing the lid, and passing it to Hermione. "Your turn now, Hermione."

Picking it up, and holding it close to her so that no-one could see, not even Ron, who was craning his neck rather, she opened it up briefly, looked at the reflection, went red, and closed it again quickly.

"Well it works." She said hastily, trying to recover herself, and handing it to Harry.

Harry swiftly handed it to Ron, who just as quickly handed it back to George.

"Cowards." Hermione scoffed in disgust. "How did you do it?" She asked the twins.

"Trade secrets." They said together, George tapping his nose.

"Honestly Hermione," Fred continued, "I don't know why you don't want us to know, I mean, we're quite aware who everyone at this table is after already."

"Oh you are, are you?" Hermione asked fiercely, suddenly looking quite ferocious.

"But we may be wrong about you." George said hastily.

"And we would never dream of telling anyone, even if we aren't." Fred added.

The twins then both proceeded to wink at Harry as they drained their glasses, quite undoing any backtracking they had achieved.

"Fancy a walk?" Fred suggested. "Have a look around Hogsmeade, you know, seems an age since we were last here."

The five of them squeezed out of the crowded pub, and set off down the less populated road, looking in the windows of the shops, but not stopping to buy. It looked like Ron might have been waiting for the added privacy.

"Have you two seen Percy yet?" He asked the twins.

"Yeah. Arrogant prat that he is." Fred replied shortly.

"I don't think Dad would have let him back in the house if it wasn't for Mum." George told them. "She's the only one that seems happy about the whole thing."

"Do you want Hermione and me to go, and let you guys talk?" Harry said, feeling awkward, and remembering what Hermione had said about non-family members getting in the way. "We can meet up again later."

"What?" George asked uncomprehendingly. "Of course not, you two are as good as family to us, you have a right to know too."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who for some reason had gone slightly red again. She looked rather pleased to be thought of as part of the family. Now that the summer was over, Harry was rather pleased too.

"Percy didn't mean his apology." Fred told them definitively.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Ron said. "I thought he wanted someone to fall back on in case he was fired."

"No, I mean we know he didn't mean it. He isn't behaving like Percy at all. We know what he's like when he's made a mistake, and apologises for it. He doesn't like admitting he's wrong, so he does, or did, things to make up for it in other ways. It's like he does things so that he feels he's made up for it, without other people noticing, so he doesn't have to say he's wrong. That's just what Percy does."

"But now it's like he's making it as obvious as possible to help Mum and Dad, and Bill and Charlie, and even us when we showed our faces in there." George continued. "I mean, he even offered to help test our stuff! That is _not_ Percy. That just isn't the way he does things. Ron's right, he only apologised because he wanted something else. He's still junior Undersecretary at the moment, but maybe you're right, and he is worried about what would happen if he was fired."

"Maybe if he thinks you didn't notice the things he did to make up for mistakes before, he feels he has to make it really obvious this time." Hermione suggested timidly. "What if he actually is sorry?"

By now they had reached the end of the street, and were in fact walking towards the Shrieking Shack, but nobody suggested they turned around. The thing they were talking about could do with a bit of privacy.

George shook his head. "He keeps saying he's sorry, but that isn't like him either. Something stinks about it, and we intend to find out what. After the things he said about Mum and Dad and Harry, we're not going to let him get away with anything else."

"Did you use him to test some of your products?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Course we did. No way we could do anything that might have been too dangerous though, not with Mum around." Fred said regretfully.

"What's happening with him and the Order?" Harry asked, slightly anxious.

"We're keeping him as far away as possible." George said. "He knows nothing about anything that goes on, hasn't got a clue about Grimmauld Place, or where we go for the meetings or anything. Mum doesn't want any of the family in the Order anyway, and the rest of us want him nowhere near anything important. He knows a couple of people that are in the Order, but then he did anyway, before he started this whole thing."

"Remus came over for dinner the couple of times we were there, and Percy was polite to him and all, but that's about it." Fred told him. "But let's not spend your day in Hogsmeade talking about that git. How's the new Quidditch team going you two?"

"Oh thanks." Hermione said dryly.

"Well you aren't on it, are you?" George said. "So, have you replaced everyone okay?"

The Quidditch talk didn't last long however. Behind them was the sound of screaming and yelling, that caused the whole group to whip around in horror. High over the village of Hogsmeade, sat the Dark Mark.

All four of the male contingent in the group swore loudly.

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

"How are we meant to know Ron?" Fred snapped.

He and George were fumbling in their pockets. They withdrew what looked like two small black, plastic coins. Tapping them with their wands, they quickly reached up, and inserted them into their right ears, where the coins moulded themselves to fit snugly in the ear hole.

"What's going on?" George said.

"How are we meant to know?" Ron snapped back.

George put his finger to his mouth to indicate silence, and then both twins turned their backs.

"It must be those things they invented to talk over distances." Hermione whispered.

The twins turned back to them.

"Death Eaters appeared in Hogsmeade and set the mark up, there's fighting, but no casualties or anything yet. Just a lot of people panicking. Moody wants us to take you guys back to the castle. Good thing we went for a walk."

"Where are they?" Harry asked quickly.

"Near Scrivenshaft's, you know, that quill shop." Fred said grimly.

"Scrivenshaft's?" Ron asked in alarm. "Isn't that near Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Ginny!" Harry and Hermione yelled together.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, you knew I'd throw in a cliffhanger somewhere, I'm sure... ;) I'm not a big fan of them to tell the truth, because I think they're overused, but now and again is okay, and this was a good time to stop... I know this chapter was a bit quiet, but next chapter will hopefully more than make up for it for those people who like action._

_What else... Oh yeah, I stole another name! Rufus Scrimgeour, for example, was originally named Maguire, who is now his nearest competitor. The only problem is, I wanted him in law enforcement, and in a high up position (I chose Head of Aurors). Once I found that Rufus Scrimgeour was head of the Auror Department, I had no choice really - I'm trying to keep it as true to the universe as possible. :)_


	16. The Essence of Karma

**Chapter 16: The Essence of Karma **

"What?" The twins demanded.

"Ginny and Dean were going to Madam Puddifoot's." Hermione explained quickly.

"What?" They shouted again. "We're going to help. You lot can see yourselves back to the castle."

The twins disappeared with a loud crack. Harry and Ron looked at each other, sharing the same thought. As one, they started sprinting towards Hogsmeade.

"Guys, wait!" Hermione yelled from behind them.

Harry and Ron stopped, and turned around. Hermione was running to catch up. Harry and Ron shared another look.

"Look-" Hermione began.

"Hermione." Ron said. "This is my sister that's in danger here. I'm not going back to the castle to wait and see if she's okay, okay?"

"I don't expect you to. And even if I did, there's no way I can force you there."

"Thank you. Now if you don't mind." Ron turned to continuing running, but Hermione continued talking.

"But we're not going to be any help to anyone if we just run in there and get attacked ourselves."

"So what do you suggest? Wait here until they come to us?" Ron said fiercely.

"Of course not Ron, but if we're going to help Ginny we have to stay out of sight for as long as possible. And…" She hesitated. "If the Order see us we won't be able to do anything either. You do know that, right?"

"Damn." Harry muttered, more to himself than anything. "I'm not going anywhere without my Invisibility Cloak from now on."

His mind had started to race as he tried to work out what they should do. "Hermione, you don't know how to do disillusionment charms do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't. I think what we have to do is get back to town, and head towards the Mark while staying out of sight."

They started running again, trying to cover the short distance as quickly as possible.

"What are they doing here?" Ron panted.

"Dunno." Harry said. "Maybe they're after me, but they must know that there'd be extra protection, especially around me."

Hermione, who wasn't as quick as Ron or Harry, said nothing. She was using all her energy to keep up with them.

"Maybe he's after us," Ron said, and despite the exercise he went slightly paler, "the people that went to the Department of Mysteries with you. If anyone lays a finger on my sister…" But he fell silent, as Harry took the lead, and he had to speed up to catch him.

As the three of them joined the village's main street, they stopped dead. It was deserted, apart from a few robed people who were firing curses from their wands, and sheltering behind buildings, midway down, where Harry remembered Scrivenshaft's to be.

"What now?" He panted to his two companions, but it was he that answered the question. "If we head down one of those side streets, we can get closer."

"Right." Ron agreed. Hermione just gasped for air.

They raced up the side streets, seemingly unnoticed. Quick glances showed that houses, and flats above shops – not to mention the shops themselves – had all been abandoned. Probably immediately the Dark Mark appeared, Harry thought. As they drew nearer, and they were in the adjacent side street to Madam Puddifoot's, the screaming intensified, and youngest voices were heard loudest of all.

"Now what?" Harry asked Hermione. "You didn't want us to rush in, so now what?"

"Let me just think a minute." She said anxiously.

Suddenly, whether it was because the voice was louder than the others, or just more recognisable, all three of them clearly heard Ginny yell: "Stupefy!"

Harry turned back to Hermione anxiously. "Come-"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

He turned; Ron had tired of waiting, and raced around the corner. Harry followed him, all thoughts of planning forgotten. He had to get in there, he had to help Ron save Ginny. The footsteps behind him signalled Hermione to be in pursuit.

Harry barely took in the scene in front of him, as he too turned the corner. Men and women in Aurors' robes were sending curses down the street, towards where the Dark Mark had been sent up. Ron had been grabbed around the waist by one of them, and was struggling to continue his run forward towards the fray. The diversion gave Harry all the time he needed to avoid the Aurors. Harry pushed past Ron's captor, and flung himself out around the corner.

As he did so, he heard Ron yelling. "Let me go! My sister's in there!"

"Harry!" Hermione screamed.

"Falxia!" Harry yelled in rage, pointing his wand towards the nearest person in Death Eater's robes and masks, who was casting a spell at an Auror ensconced behind some kind of barricade.

Rather than retreating once he had cast the spell, or trying to find cover, Harry rushed forwards. His target heard him just in time to see the curse, but was caught on the arm, causing a large, red, glutinous mark to form on her robes. She kept hold of the wand in her other hand however, and dived to the side.

A loud nasal voice rang out, as the woman screamed to her companions from where she was hiding. "It's Harry Potter! Kill him!"

Harry heard voices to his side and rear, as people cursed, and lost some of their discipline.

"Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?"

"What the hell is he doing? Damn it! Put down shields."

Ahead of him, the other side of the Death Eaters, came another voice. Remus Lupin's.

"What are you doing Harry? Get back to safety, we'll take care of them! Leave them to us."

Another voice, unmistakably Mad-Eye Moody's, was roaring as well, but Harry wasn't listening. It was as if he had only now realised where he was, and what he had done. He suddenly knew that if he didn't concentrate, then he was as good as dead. He was by now past the nearest Auror, and was between both sets of combatants. Curses shot towards him, and shouts of 'Mutucutus' and other shielding spells meant that barriers would appear in front of him, but they would be no use against the killing curse, Avada Kedavra.

Harry looked around, and in that split second, instinctively knew what to do. Diving to his right, he yelled his spell out for the whole world to hear, aiming his wand in front of him, at a wooden door barring the way to somebody's house.

"Reducto!"

The wood split down the middle and splintered into small pieces. Outside, Harry heard the wall being peppered by spells. He landed heavily, causing pieces of wood to embed themselves in his arm, but rolled over immediately, ready to cast a spell. No-one came into sight.

"Bloody stay in there!" Someone yelled out to him.

The sounds of battle outside seemed to be never ending to Harry, as he got to his feet. Yelling, screaming, and shouting continued without sign of abating. There was, however, no sound of Ginny, or even other Hogwarts students. Now it was all Aurors and Death Eaters making the noise. Harry prayed that that was a good sign, rather than bad.

Trying to stay out of sight, Harry crept forward towards the door. This was what those duelling sessions with Aravenne were all about – trying to prepare him for something like this. The spells and tactics he had used in those mock duels raced through his mind as he stuck his head out. Aravenne had told them that he was better when he took the aggressive role, and aimed more dangerous, more damaging, spells at his opponent.

"_Reducto_." Harry thought desperately, as he pointed his wand at a Death Eater.

He was on the other side of the street, sheltering behind a large piece of rubble that had fallen from the building, kneeling in front of a door. Unfortunately he had been looking at Harry, and spotted the curse coming, despite the fact that it wasn't verbalised. He deflected it up harmlessly into the air, and cast a spell of his own. Harry easily avoided the green light of the curse, which took a huge chunk out of the hall he was standing in.

Retreating out of sight, and thinking quickly, he remembered his duel with Blaise Zabini, on the first Tuesday of term, and tried to picture the door across the street in his head.

"Accio door!"

The loud crashes and shouts outside continued, so Harry had no idea whether his idea had worked or not. A random curse shot through the doorway, demolishing the hall Harry was in further, preventing him from sticking his head out once more.

"Merlin help me, I thought I told you to get to safety, you f-" Someone yelled from outside, who, judging from the grunt, was prevented from finishing his sentence by having to move quickly.

"Look! Just stay out of the way Mr Potter!" The same voice said angrily.

Harry retreated back up the hall, there was no way he could do anything from where he was, anyway. Behind him rose wooden stairs to some flat over a shop and either side of him were just plain walls, there were no doors leading from the hall he was in. Another curse came in through the door, destroying what remained of that piece of wall to his left. A large hole at head height showed the insides of a robes shop next door. It gave Harry an idea – maybe he could make a door. Pushing his back to the wall, he aimed his wand at the wall on his other side.

"Reducto!" He muttered, shielding his eyes with his free hand.

The spell ricocheted at an angle, missing Harry, and continuing to bounce across the hallway towards the door, before it fizzled out. Obviously the Reductor curse wasn't strong enough to destroy walls in a witch or wizard's house. Harry glanced back to the door quickly. Curse light was flying past, too close to the opening for Harry's comfort. Instinctively he knew that someone was trying to get into the corridor after him. Unless he stood and fought, the only way open to him was up.

There was a resounding crash, louder than any other sound outside, and it almost seemed to have come from above Harry. Dust covered the way out onto the battlefield momentarily, but as it cleared, Harry saw what looked like a large part of a wall, nestling between the doorway, and the Aurors.

Harry's heart hammered. That could only mean one thing: Death Eaters were going to come after him. Of course they would, he, Harry Potter, had just shown himself to them, and they knew exactly where he was.

_You idiot_! He screamed at himself internally. _Why do you never listen to Hermione?_

Harry backed up the stairs behind him, never leaving the door with his eyes. Upstairs was the only way left to him, so that was the way he had to go. Before he had climbed five steps, however, a man appeared, crouching behind the stone wreckage, and looked in through the door.

"Farcio!" Harry yelled, summoning up all his heart and soul into the spell.

In the short time the spell took to reach the man, Harry saw him sneer, and make a type of flick with his wand. The sneer changed to shock, as, despite hitting a shimmering barrier, Harry's spell caused the man to fly backwards, shield and all. Harry fell backwards himself, ending in a sitting position. Both he and the Death Eater struggled to rise, but while Harry succeeded, the Death Eater was caught by a spell from an Auror, and first went rigid, and then magical bindings appeared, tying him up, and gagging him.

A second Death Eater appeared before Harry could so much as move, but he fell across the doorway, struck by a spell before he could reach cover. The third came as Harry reached what was sort of a mini-landing, where the stairs doubled back on themselves, leading to a wide corridor above. Trying the same spell that had worked against the previous opponent, Harry raised his wand.

This time, however, his spell work seemed to be treated with a new respect, and the masked man avoided it, pressing himself against one of the walls. The Death Eater replied with a spell of his own. Not only did Harry not hear an incantation, but he didn't recognise anything else about the spell either, so he too avoided it, sidestepping out of view.

The spell however, did not simply fizzle out against the wall behind Harry, but exploded upon contact. It was only a mild force, but it caused Harry to go crashing face first onto the stairs leading upwards in front of him. There was the sound of laughter below him, as the Death Eater enjoyed what he obviously saw as his triumph.

"You're only a kid." He said, in a voice which didn't sound very old itself. "There's no way you can fight me. The Dark Lord told us that all you were is lucky, and he's right. You _were_ lucky." He continued to laugh unpleasantly.

Harry used the time to roll over. His whole body was in pain from the explosion, and from the fact that splinters of wood had, ever more painfully, been pushed further into his left arm. Strangely, however, he wasn't scared, nor was he bothered by the soreness. His head was pounding, and his heart pumping, but he was thinking clearly.

He had to get upstairs. If he could do that, then he would be in a large space, where curses like the one that had just been used, couldn't work, and he could dodge easily. His opponent, meanwhile, would be stuck in this cramped stairwell.

Harry struggled to his feet, and pointed his wand at the debris that had been created by the explosion. Rather than casting the spell he had in mind immediately, however, he crept backwards up the stairs, trying to get as far up them as possible before the Death Eater realised that he wasn't too badly wounded.

He didn't have long to wait. A stair creaked, and he heard a vehement curse from below him. The man's steps, which before now had been soft, and lazy, suddenly broke into a run, and he mounted the stairs himself.

Harry concentrated firmly upon the rubble, and banished it down the stairs, hoping that the pieces might hit some target he couldn't see. Hearing a thump of pain, he turned and sprinted upstairs. There was a crash behind him, and the whole staircase seemed to shudder, but he didn't look back. A second crash resounded, and shook the wood beneath him, before Harry reached the top. He turned around to hear a third crash, and see the third of three holes appear in the stairs that he had just seconds ago climbed.

The Death Eater had obviously just aimed wildly, rather than running the risk of being surprised again by someone lying in wait. Harry could see pieces of the floor below through the apertures, and the stairs now looked in danger of falling down. Harry backed away slowly, without taking his eyes off the spot, where any second now, the Death Eater, or Death Eaters could appear.

He paused. Now he came to think of it, perhaps the fact that the stairs looked about to disintegrate was a good thing. If there were no stairs, how could they get up to him? He raised his wand, and pointed it at the topmost stair. He took a deep breath.

"Re-"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry looked up, midway through his incantation. The Death Eater had climbed onto the mini-landing, and aimed a curse at Harry. His body stiffened, legs springing together, arms snapping to a rigid position at his sides, as his hand dropped his wand, and it rolled away a few feet. With a loud 'thunk', Harry fell backwards.

"I'm going to enjoy hurting you, you little runt." The Death Eater snarled, stomping up the stairs.

Harry strained his eyes to see where the man was, but all he could see was the ceiling above him, and, if he tried hard enough, his nose. He struggled to move his arms – if he was going to die, this was not how it was meant to happen. To his sudden excitement, he thought there might have been a little bit of give there. Maybe the Death Eater wasn't such a good wizard as he imagined himself. He strained his head forwards, trying to see over his chest.

A loud scream and crash suddenly tore through the air, and Harry abruptly found himself able to move, albeit very slowly, and stiffly. He sat up. The staircase that had made its way up to the level that Harry was now on, was no more. Instead, he discovered as he crawled forwards, lying motionless on the empty ground floor and surrounded by wooden wreckage, was the Death Eater, and an ominous pool of crimson.

Harry's hand fell upon his wand, and he muttered the counter curse to the full body bind, suddenly able to move freely again. He didn't understand why he had been able to even move at all. Regardless if the Death Eater was dead or not, it shouldn't have lifted so immediately. And he didn't think he'd ever heard of a curse like that 'half-lifting'. He didn't think about it much however, to be honest, he really didn't care: it was the body below that had his attention. It was almost the first dead body he had seen that actually looked dead, and he didn't like the feeling it gave him.

He turned his back to where the staircase once had been, and, wincing, made his way to a door in front of him. It was locked, but opened easily with the Alohomora charm. Harry suddenly realised that everything had gone quiet, voices drifted up to him, but no longer yelling curses to and fro, and there was a distinct lack of the sound of battle. In front of Harry was a dust covered room, armchairs and other furniture looking quite white from the paint, or plaster, that had fallen on them.

There was a large hole, big enough to stand three people side by side comfortably, in the external wall which adjoined the street. Harry made his way cautiously to it, listening to the voices all the time.

"Lower the Apparition wards." Somebody snarled. "Or I'll kill her."

"We have you surrounded, Lestrange, let her go, and come in quietly."

The first speaker laughed nastily. It was a man's voice, so Harry assumed it had to be Bellatrix Lestrange's husband Rodolphus, and it sounded like he had a hostage.

"What's one more death to my list of supposed crimes? What are you going to give me now? _Two_ life sentences in Azkaban? Three? Lower the wards and she might not die."

"You're not getting away Lestrange, you know that. Drop your wand, and let her go."

"Stay where you are! One step closer and she dies, if any of you try to cast a spell then she dies, and if any of you lot try to get to safety, then she dies too. Lower the wards."

Harry peered out through the hole in the wall. Down on the street were many motionless bodies, from both sides, most of them bound in one form or another, but some were free of bonds, dead. One of the bodies looked like a Hogwarts' student.

There were four main groups in the scene, two groups of Aurors and civilians (who looked to Harry to be mainly Order members) and Ron and Hermione (being restrained by Moody and Moony respectively), were either side of a mask-less Death Eater and a small girl, who was crying fiercely, and had the point of his wand pointed at the back of her neck, and his arm around the front. The Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange, had his back to Harry, so that he could see both groups of Aurors, and the fourth group of people.

The fourth group was made up of mainly Hogwarts students, although there were adults with them, and was outside Madam Puddifoot's – a blazing fire was raging inside, but as of yet, no-one was trying to put it out, maybe because the fire seemed unable to touch the walls or door of the building. At the front of the fourth group, were Ginny, Dean, Cho Chang, and Terry Boot, all of whom had their wands raised.

"You won't do that Lestrange; she's the only thing stopping you from dying right now." A young man's voice said confidently. "Drop your wand now, or we will curse to kill."

"You're right." Lestrange said, and Harry sensed a ripple of relaxation spread through the Aurors present. "I only have one hostage after all."

Lestrange moved with a speed born of desperation it seemed, and whipped his wand at the crowd of civilians, caught in the middle of this standoff. Ginny's wand flew out of her hand, and she was dragged forwards a couple of metres. Dean moved forward himself, but Lestrange screamed out to stop him.

"Stay where you are, if anyone moves, then she dies too. Now lower the wards!"

A lesser person than Ginny might have screamed, or tried to get away, but Ginny just stood there trembling, knowing that her life was in the hands of another, but that if she moved then someone else, someone just as innocent, someone that the Death Eater had even less reason to kill, would get hurt instead. Harry was suddenly reminded of another redhead, one that had stood her ground in front of Voldemort so that he might live.

His mother had died, but Harry swore that Ginny wouldn't. He stepped out into the gap, aiming his wand at Lestrange's back. At that exact second, an almighty 'CRACK' rang out, shattering the comparative quiet. The sky seemed to change through a myriad of colours, before returning to the cloudy grey it had been before. A voice rang out from across the street, from the window of a building.

"Watch behind you Roddy! Just leave now, forget about the scum!" The owner of the voice disappeared with a loud crack, apparating away; a couple more cracks signalled that some other Death Eaters had been hiding and escaped.

The Death Eater glanced behind, seeing Harry with his wand pointed at him. As he did so, Harry knew exactly what he was going to do, he was going to apparate, but before he did, he would kill one last innocent person. All he could think about was making sure that that person wasn't going to be Ginny. She was not going to die, like his mother had, because she did not move out of the way. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he imagined the piece of road directly between Ginny and Lestrange, and, wand in front of him, disappeared with a distorted sort of snapping sound.

The next thing he knew, he felt rather strange, the feeling that he had recently come to associate with splinching. Echoing, slurred voices were saying things he couldn't make out, and fuzzy shapes in front of him were moving out of focus. All he knew was that he had to make some kind of shield, but he didn't seem to be able to say anything, and so, wand in front of him, he thought of the word 'Protego' desperately. A second later, everything went green.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He was standing in the Arch room of the Department of Mysteries, suddenly finding himself in great pain, and having to double over. Every breath he took was torturous. He coughed, red liquid hitting the floor in front of him, creating a puddle, and staying there. The more Harry struggled to breath, the more it hurt.

"Slow down your breathing, Harry." A deep voice told him.

Harry's head snapped up, causing his head to scream in pain, although his voice box couldn't make the sound. His pulse quickened, and his breathing started to become even more ragged, even more painful. His legs collapsed underneath him, and he fell to the floor.

The dark haired man stooped in concern, and, trying to sound both calming and urgent at the same time, lifted Harry into a sitting position, and talked to him.

"Slow your breathing, it won't hurt as much. You must slow your breathing Harry."

"Si- Si?" Harry tried, but failed to make the right sounds to speak.

"It's me, Harry, just relax, and slow your breathing. It'll feel better, trust me." The man who looked so like Sirius Black said.

Slowly, Harry did relax, and as he did so, his breathing steadied. Sirius was right, he did start to feel better. In fact, the longer he sat there, not saying anything, but being supported and kept company by Sirius, the more the pain started to fade.

"Sirius?" He managed to say eventually, without any pain whatsoever. "You are Sirius, aren't you?"

Sirius smiled, nodded, and held him a little bit tighter.

"Am I dead?" Harry asked, the words first ringing in his head, and then echoing in the room around him, but no matter how many times he heard it repeated, it didn't sound a stupid question to him.

"Do you feel dead?" Sirius asked him, smiling.

"No…" Harry muttered, "No… I'm in too much pain to be dead, unless, unless I'm going to Hell because I failed."

His voice suddenly sounded weak, and frightened, even to him, but the closest he could remember to ever feeling this way was one of the first times the Dursleys had set him a near impossible task to do, in not enough time, just so they could punish him.

"I couldn't do it Sirius, I couldn't." Harry said, suddenly feeling close to tears. "I don't know enough, I'm not strong enough, how could I kill Voldemort, when people who knew more magic than me, and were better wizards failed?"

"Harry," Sirius said quietly, "you haven't failed."

"Everything I do, fails." Harry said, feeling rather small and insignificant. "All I do, is put other people in danger. It doesn't matter what I think of, I'm always a step behind. Because I failed, Voldemort can't be defeated. Because I failed, I put everyone in even more danger in Hogsmeade, in the Department of Mysteries. Because I failed, you died."

"Harry." Sirius said, with a slight bite in his voice. "You have not failed in anything. You are _not_ dead."

"Then what am I?" Harry asked. "I can't be alive, I was in Hogsmeade a second ago, how could I have got here? And if I had, wouldn't the place have people in? And how are you here? You are here aren't you? You are Sirius?" He added suddenly.

"I'm here." Sirius told him. "Try pinching me."

"But you really are Sirius?" Harry pressed.

Sirius just gave a sad smile, and then stood, and looked around him. "Interesting choice of a place to hide your memories in, Harry."

"You're not real, are you?" Harry asked slowly.

Sirius just smiled at him again.

"This is just a dream." Harry said, suddenly feeling cheated, but why, he didn't know.

'_Because I'm not dead?_' He asked himself, incredulously. '_Or because Sirius hasn't somehow come back to life?' _

"When you were transported to Voldemort's rebirth, did you fail then?" Sirius asked him.

"If I'd moved quicker, maybe Cedric wouldn't have…" Harry trailed off, Sirius was looking at him sternly. "No." Harry said quietly. "I couldn't have done anything else, could I?"

Sirius didn't respond, but rather continued. "What about in the Triwizard tournament itself? True, you may have had a bit of help in the first two tasks, Barty Crouch Junior, and then Diggory and Dobby, but in any of the tasks, did you actually fail?"

"No." Harry muttered, using his arms to push himself upright – the pain was nearly gone.

"You saved my life in your third year, and," He added humorously, "at the risk of sounding rather soppy, and quite unlike my normal self, you gave me a reason to keep living. You and Moony gave me a reason other than revenge."

"But because of me Pettigrew escaped, and Voldemort was reborn-"

"Tell me Harry," Sirius cut across him, "if you do manage to kill Voldemort, will you still say that you failed then? Not even Dumbledore would have been able to kill Voldemort while he had no actual body to speak of. And before that, did you fail against the Basilisk? Against Voldemort and Quirrell? Most people I know that knew more magic than you did then, or even now, would have failed, but you didn't."

Harry was quiet for a few seconds, before he said quietly. "I failed to stop you going through that veil. Because of me you left the safety of Grimmauld Place."

Sirius gave his bark of a laugh. "Harry, I was going to get out of that house one way or another at some point. I'd had enough of it. I needed a fight, to go after the Death Eaters, rather than stay in that hellhole of my parents'. I didn't want the 'safety' of Grimmauld Place, you know what it's like. You were there all summer, and you've had to live with those Muggle relations of yours. I just wasn't able to duel the way I used to."

He looked rather wistful, Harry thought.

"But if I-"

Sirius didn't let Harry finish his sentence. "I don't blame you Harry. If I don't, what right do you have to?"

"I miss you, Sirius." Harry said huskily.

Sirius walked over to him, and gave him a bear hug. "Look, Harry, there's one thing I – well, two things actually – that I want you to do, okay?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"You and Moony. Make sure you look after each other will you? He was – is – the truest friend James or I ever had."

"Yeah." Harry said, with more certainty than he had had thus far in this dream, or whatever it was. "We will. What else?"

Sirius turned away, and walked towards the raised dais.

"Live." He said simply.

"Don't go!" Harry called after him, the words echoing once more.

Sirius turned, to give him a rather poignant smile. "Harry. Do you think you failed when Voldemort killed your parents? Do you think you could have done anything else?"

With that, Sirius walked through the veil, not appearing on the other side of it.

Harry fell back onto one of the steps that rose around the pit, and sat down. He was confused, and tired, and now that Sirius was gone, he was beginning to hurt again. Had that really been Sirius? But no, it couldn't have been. Sirius was dead, he wasn't a ghost, and the only way they could have talked was if Harry was dead too and there was an afterlife. And from the things Sirius had been saying, if he was to believe him, Harry wasn't dead. No, maybe he was just dreaming, and Sirius had just been part of his imagination.

Harry tried to accept that, but for some reason couldn't. He didn't want to, and, he thought, yawning, not only did he not understand what was going on, but he was so… so tired. His head started to droop.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

There was screaming, a man in pain. Harry opened his eyes, and the scene was all too familiar to him. It was identical to the vision he had had when Voldemort showed him the deaths of his parents. For some reason, he didn't feel surprised, if anything, he felt rather detached, as if he was both here and not here at the same time.

He walked forwards towards the torture victim, studying his face. He could not have been more than thirty, if that. His was a strange face, Harry decided; it reminded him of twenty different people that he had known. The eyes looked a bit like Ginny's, the shape of the mouth was Seamus', and the nose looked almost like Dumbledore's – if he squinted a bit. It was as if he was representing the whole world. This man could be any of them, if Voldemort was not stopped.

Harry was vaguely aware of a curse coming out of his body, and hitting the man, and of the door opening, and Wormtail coming in, but he didn't pay much attention. Who was this man? What had he done? Why was he trussed up here for Voldemort's pleasure? Harry wasn't sure if he had ever been quite as aware of how much he hated Voldemort.

Before Harry knew it, he had disappeared, and reappeared somewhere else entirely. Rather than, like he had before, trying to dig in his heels, and shut his ears, he followed Voldemort, until they disapparated to Godric's Hollow and appeared in front of Chaser's Rest: Harry's house.

Harry walked away, completely ignoring Voldemort. He strode into the driveway, looking around him carefully, trying to ingrain the image of where he should have lived into his brain. The feel of the grass on the lawn, the fruit trees at one side, the look of the Muggle car that his parents had owned. He walked around the house slowly, trying to get a feel of where each room in the building was, which way the windows faced, everything.

It was once he had completed his circuit, that Voldemort walked purposefully towards him and the house, stopping to demolish the car en route. It would not be long until Voldemort broke into the house and killed his father. This time, however, Harry was ready for it, and he followed in quite willingly, looking at his father, and feasting his eyes on the way he looked, and the way he moved, the things he did, and the things he said.

It suddenly struck Harry, that Voldemort was convinced he could not be beaten, and yet his father had come very close to it. If the bullet from the Muggle gun, something that Voldemort looked down upon with nothing but contempt, had just embedded itself a few inches away, in Voldemort's heart, nothing Voldemort could have done would have saved him. His father could easily have killed Voldemort that night, before he had had a chance to mark him, Harry, as his equal.

When his father fell, Harry did not look away, nor did he flinch. Instead, he took one last look at James Potter, and then followed Voldemort through the house, once more trying to take in every detail. They stopped. Voldemort had sensed Lily and baby Harry behind a door, and it flung open.

It was as Harry saw the flash of light from the window, where his mother was, that he realised again that Voldemort was fallible. If he had taken a little more time to find the two of them, his mother would have carried him to safety on a broom, or Portkeyed away, and Voldemort would have failed.

Harry stared at his mother. Never before had he had such a chance to take in every inch of her, to have some more knowledge than mere photographs, and the screams he had heard when the Dementors had attacked. He reached forward to touch her, to know what she felt like, but his hand passed straight through her. Strange. He had been able to touch the grass outside.

His throat constricted as the life seemed to vanish from her body, but it was as if someone else was in control of him, and he did not weep this time, but rather took her dead body in with his eyes one last time, and stepped to the cot, to look at his own self within.

He was bawling loudly, aware that some evil travesty had occurred, but not exactly what. What could baby Harry have done to change things? Could Harry have got to his feet, and cast a spell at Voldemort? Could he have told his mother and father that Pettigrew was a traitor, and that Voldemort was going to know where they were? Could he have leapt through the air, and taken the curse that had been meant for his mother? Of course not. What could he have done differently? How could he have changed anything? How, exactly, had he failed?

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry opened his eyes slowly, feeling drained of energy, and unable to raise his head. His throat and chest ached, and he involuntarily coughed, causing a burning sensation to spread throughout his body.

"Harry!" Ginny's delighted voice floated across the room. "Harry, you're awake! How are you?"

"Water." Harry gasped, unable to say anything more of substance.

He felt his head being lifted, and saw a glass, and Ginny's face, as she put it to his lips. He felt like he was swallowing greedily, but that not much liquid was descending to sooth his throat. He spluttered slightly, and Ginny removed the glass anxiously. Harry coughed; it hurt terribly again. His breathing had started to become erratic, and every breath he took was painful, just as it had been in his dream of Sirius.

Ginny was anxiously saying something, but what exactly she said didn't register. He turned his head to the side, and tried to slow his breathing down. It had worked in his dream, after all.

"Harry, Harry, are you okay?"

"Where?" Harry had said only two words so far, but each had hurt him.

"You're in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey has been looking after you for the last two days. Ron, Hermione, and I have been coming up whenever we can to see you."

"Ron? Herm… Hermio-" He coughed again.

"It's Monday, Harry." Ginny said soothingly. "They have classes. My Potions lesson was cancelled."

"You… okay?" He croaked, starting to remember what had happened: Ginny had been in danger.

Harry lifted his head with a tremendous effort, in order to see her face. It had gone rather red – she was blushing fiercely.

"Thanks to you. You saved my life." She whispered, looking away from Harry's gaze.

"Had… to." Harry said.

Ginny looked back, giving a sort of nervous smile. "I promise I won't not talk to you for a year again."

Harry tried to laugh, but instead started to cough violently, shuddering with each convulsion.

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to make you..." Ginny said mortified.

"Miss Weasley." A stern voice said from somewhere. "I thought I told you all to tell me if Mr Potter woke up while you were here."

"He only just woke up." Ginny protested, going, if anything, redder.

Harry saw Madam Pomfrey's face come into view, and felt strong arms pull him up into a sitting position.

"I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to leave, Miss Weasley, he needs potions, and bed rest. You may visit him this evening."

Harry watched Ginny retreat to the door, still blushing. "I'll see you later Harry, and I'll tell Ron and Hermione."

Harry's face felt rather warm too, as he watched her disappear from view – coughing violently, and finding each cough quite so excruciating would do that to you, he supposed. Madam Pomfrey bustled around him, giving him what felt like endless potions to swallow, and doing things with her wand. Once he had drunk what Madam Pomfrey said was the last of them, he slipped back down into a lying position, and soon fell back to sleep.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When he came to again, he could hear voices indistinctly in the background. It took him a moment to realise where he was, and work out who might be speaking, the difficulty of which was only augmented by the fact that the curtains, which had been raised to divide the wing into two, were closed. As it happened, it was Madam Pomfrey that was speaking, using the Floo.

"I've healed the splinching damage, which was quite considerable, the cuts, the bumps, the bruises, and one broken bone on his left hand, Professor, but I'm afraid it's the damage to his lungs that is the problem. I know you aren't well, but it was the Pulmelido curse, so I'm going to need some of your Dilator solution if you have any left."

There was a pause of a few seconds, before she continued. "Oh good, could you send a house-elf up with them please? Thank you Severus, it'll make things far easier on him."

He vaguely remembered Ginny saying that her Potions lesson had been cancelled. So it was because Snape wasn't feeling well? Harry was willing to bet that that wasn't it at all, but rather he had been summoned by Voldemort for some reason. So he was back in Hogwarts now, and sending him up potions… Somehow he doubted that Snape would have been pleased to hear it was Harry that he was making feel better, and half feared that whatever potion it was he was sending up wouldn't work.

He had been hit by the Pulmelido curse (whatever that was), had he? He struggled to remember, but all he could remember was green light, and fuzzy shapes. The green light would suggest Avada Kedavra, but he was the only one to have survived it once, he was hardly going to have survived it twice, was he? What was it that Pomfrey had said? It was his lungs that were the problem. Well, that would explain the trouble he was having breathing.

As if on cue, he coughed violently, after taking too deep a breath. The curtains opened, and Madam Pomfrey walked briskly towards him.

"Ah, Mr Potter. You're awake. Here, let me help you sit up, and then I shall have to give you more potions, I'm afraid."

Harry found it quite easy to allow his mind to wander as Madam Pomfrey fussed around him. He didn't feel strong enough to move his body anyway, or speak much, so it didn't make much difference whether he paid attention to his Healer or not. As she finished force feeding him potions, the door opened with a bang, revealing a ragged Remus Lupin.

"Harry? Are you okay?" He asked anxiously. "What were you thinking?"

"Remus." Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "This is a Hospital Wing, and Mr Potter is in no condition to be stressed. Any chastisement can wait until he is recovered."

"Oh. Yes Poppy, of course." Remus said; pulling up a chair beside Harry and grasping his hand firmly, as if he wanted to make sure he didn't slip away.

"I do not want to hear Mr Potter talking much whatsoever." She continued sternly. "His lungs, throat, and voice box all need rest. Indeed, it is against my better judgement that you are here at all today."

"Please stay." Harry forced out.

It was easier to talk than earlier, but each syllable still hurt. Harry, however, didn't want to be left all alone in the Hospital Wing. He was a great believer in taking his mind off the pain, by having other people staying with him. He didn't want to be left all alone, with only his own ragged breaths, and wretched coughs for company.

"He may, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey said. "But only for as long as you do not tax yourself. If I have to, Remus Lupin," She said, looking the man firmly in the eye, "I will forcibly remove you."

"Yes Ma'am!" He said hastily, causing Harry to smile weakly.

"You'll be okay, Harry." Remus said, comfortingly. "I promise."

Remus was the perfect visitor to an injured patient in Harry's condition. He talked about plenty of things, assurances about other friends' health, Percy's reintegration into the Weasley family, little things that did not involve Harry, or his participation, but that gave him something else to think about. True to his word to Madam Pomfrey, there was no scolding directed at Harry, but judging from the worried looks Lupin gave him, Harry had a feeling that he would get it at some point.

Eventually they moved on to the reason that Harry was in the Hospital Wing bed in the first place, and it was Harry that brought it up. He wanted to know when he was going to get out of here, and how long he would be struggling to breathe.

"What does that curse do? The one-" He coughed, but managed to prevent it degenerating into a fit. "The one that hit me?"

"Pulmelido?" Remus said, getting his answer from Harry's eyes. "It's a vicious curse." He said hatefully. "It attacks your lungs, windpipe, everything the human body uses to breathe. It crushes everything, leaving them useless, and the victim to suffocate. You took the worst amount of damage any of us, even Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey, has ever heard of someone having taken and lived – it's not surprising that you are feeling weak and in pain."

"How long-" This time, Harry had to fight harder to suppress his coughing, and it brought involuntary tears to his eyes.

Remus understood the question Harry had wanted to say however, and with a quick anxious look at Madam Pomfrey, who was looking at them through narrowed slits, he answered before Harry could try to speak again.

"I think I'm about to be thrown out Harry. You'll be here until Madam Pomfrey releases you, but judging by your improvement since Saturday, you could find yourself out of here by the end of the week."

"My improvement?" Harry asked in horror, before succumbing to the pain again.

Madam Pomfrey, however, had had enough. She strode over to the pair of them, and told Remus, quite sternly, that that was enough for now.

"No, Mr Potter, you need rest, and things such as speaking only make yourself worse. I will not allow you to speak any more. You may see Mr Lupin and your friends this evening, but only if I adjudge you to be well enough. If you are not rested, they shall have to wait until tomorrow. A couple more potions, and then you must sleep once more. Yes Mr Potter, sleep. It helps the recovery process."

Moony left with a couple of anxious glances in Harry's direction, but also leaving Harry in no doubt that Madam Pomfrey's advice should be followed.

One of the potions he had been given must have been a sleeping potion, for he soon began to feel very drowsy. Possibly his last thought before he went to sleep, was that if he had made such an improvement in two days, that Remus suggested he might only be here another few, how bad exactly, had he been after the attack?

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry woke up, which, judging by the day outside, was quite late in the evening, he did, in actual fact, feel much stronger. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, the sound of which drew Madam Pomfrey to open the curtains once more, and he attempted to tell Madam Pomfrey as much.

Madam Pomfrey, however, quickly shut him up, by saying that if he didn't rest his voice then his friends definitely wouldn't be allowed to see him.

"I shall decide whether you are fit to have company, Mr Potter, not you."

The matron then proceeded to study his body by use of her wand, and other instruments, before she clucked her tongue, and shook her head.

"I have been in this school for many years, Mr Potter, but yet it still never ceases to amaze me how quickly young bodies heal themselves. Yours may still have a long way to go, but you may have visitors, yes. I shall be watching, however, and if I believe you need rest, I will order them away. And the same rules apply. You must not tax your voice or body."

Harry nodded, half afraid that Madam Pomfrey might change her mind if he were to verbalise an answer.

It did not take long for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to appear; indeed, it was so soon, that Harry wondered whether they had been waiting for some sign from Madam Pomfrey that they had the green light to visit him. All three of them looked like they hadn't slept well for a while, in fact, Harry hadn't noticed how big the bags under Ginny's eyes were when he saw her earlier.

Harry had the distinct impression that Hermione was close to flinging herself at him to give him a hug.

Ron seemed to notice too, for he grabbed her robes, and told her, rather anxiously, "Don't crush him to death now." He winced painfully. "Bad choice of words, sorry Harry."

It actually took Harry a couple of seconds to realise what Ron was referring to, but grinned as he understood. "It's okay, just do me a favour, and don't make any funny jokes. It hurts to laugh, or try to."

Ginny looked slightly ashamed, but neither Ron nor Hermione noticed, nevertheless, she couldn't restrain herself from saying. "Ron's okay then, he can make all the jokes he likes."

"Very funny." Ron retorted, pushing her in the half playful manner that only siblings of similar ages have.

"How are you feeling Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Better than I was when I first woke up." Harry admitted. "Is it really Monday?"

"Yeah." Ron said. "Although it feels like Wednesday to be honest. The last two days feel like they lasted twice as long."

"Not for me they don't." Harry muttered. "Listen… was I really… really that bad? What exactly happened?"

His three visitors shared glances. "Harry, how much do you remember of the attack in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked gently.

"Not much…" Harry admitted. "I remember Lestrange talking with some Auror, and threatening a girl, and then Ginny… Did I disapparate?" He asked, struggling to remember.

"In a manner of speaking." Ron said, and they all winced.

"I splinched myself didn't I?" Harry persisted.

"That's… that's one way of putting it." Hermione said. "Harry, you appeared between Ginny and Lestrange. Or half of you did, anyway."

"You were missing an arm and a leg. Literally." Ginny told him. "An ear, and part of the other one, your mouth, your eyes, your-"

"I think he gets the picture." Ron said, grimacing again.

"So you mean I was in two places at the same time without the aid of a time-turner?" Harry asked, trying to lighten the mood, but none of them smiled.

"Pretty much." Ron agreed.

"Well, that's an improvement on last Apparition lesson." Harry said, still trying to make fun of the situation. "Reversing splinching is easy for qualified witches and wizards. Look at how quickly that Ministry instructor sorted us all out. It can't have been that bad!"

Harry's throat started to throb a little bit, but he ignored it. He didn't want his friends to be thrown out before they had begun to talk. He'd just have to try and say what he wanted to in fewer words. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny shared looks again.

"It's easy enough if it's done immediately, and nothing happens to your body in the mean time." Hermione agreed. "But Harry, you had just been hit by a curse that could have killed you, and it was a while before anyone could reverse the splinching anyway."

"And that wasn't the most dangerous thing that happened to you," Ginny continued, "but Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything to help you against the curse that hit you, until she put your body back together again."

"Oh." Harry said.

He suddenly realised why it was he had been asleep for two days, woke up feeling lousy, and had still made considerable progress. It also explained just how worried everyone had been, and still were, about him. He looked at the three anxious faces around him, and started to feel more than a little concerned himself. He was going to be all right wasn't he?

"The curse," he said quietly. "Pummelido-"

"Pulmelido." Hermione corrected.

"What happened? Why didn't it kill me?"

"You don't remember anything?" Hermione asked again.

Harry said nothing for a little while, thinking hard. He did remember splinching, yes, and then he had been in the Department of Mysteries with Sirius. He deliberated carefully.

"Just loads of green light." He said eventually. "And I don't know how I saw that, if I didn't have my eyes."

"That was your shield, mate." Ron informed him.

"Harry, the Death Eater was just about to curse me when you appeared in between us. You held your wand out, and conjured some kind of shield." Ginny told him.

Harry tried to remember that happening, but couldn't.

"His curse hit your shield," Ron continued for her, "and it looked like it had got through it, but as it hit your body… Your shield turned, sort of, well, _green_, and the curse bounced away. You just collapsed."

"You weren't breathing." Hermione told him, swallowing slightly. "You didn't seem to have any pulse, everyone thought you were dead."

"Well, I wasn't, was I?" Harry said, for some reason feeling rather nettled.

"No." Hermione said, slightly stronger, "You did have a pulse, it was just very faint."

"You gave us one hell of a scare." Ron said softly, verbalising what the three of them were thinking.

"I didn't mean to." Harry said, almost defensively.

"We know you didn't." Hermione reassured him.

"What we're trying to say, Harry," Ginny told him, "is that we don't want anything like that to happen again. And we're not going to let you get that close to dying, until you're two hundred, and dying from old age."

"And by then Hermione will have figured out how to make a Philosopher's Stone." Ron added.

Harry snorted with laughter, and then coughed hard.

"Ron." Hermione said disapprovingly.

"It's Ginny's fault!" Ron said. "She said it wouldn't matter if I made jokes."

Harry laughed again, the chuckle once more turning into chesty coughs. He turned his head to the side to look at Madam Pomfrey. She was looking most annoyed, and was walking towards them.

"I'm okay, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, before she could say a word. "Please let them stay."

She looked at his visitors sternly. "The only reason I am allowing you here in the first place, is because of the vigil you kept. If my patient shows one more sign of the strain of his condition, you shall have to leave. This is your only chance. Just one more cough."

"Thanks." Harry said quietly, as she left, warmth starting to appear behind his eyes. "For what you just said, you know. And I'll try not to end up in any, but it is going to happen at least once more, you know."

"It might do." Ginny told him. "But not if we're there to help stop it."

Harry gave them all a small smile. "Let's hope then. By the way, what happened to Lestrange? Did he escape, or did the Ministry get him."

The three of them shared a third glance, which Harry was beginning to associate with them thinking they had bad news to share.

"Mate." Ron began, hesitatingly. "You know we said his curse rebounded? Well it-"

"Hit him." Harry finished the sentence for him, suddenly understanding. "And-"

"And he didn't have any shield to protect him." Hermione said.

"He's dead, Harry. There was nothing anyone could have done. He just lay there trying to breathe, but not being able to. And he died." Ginny told him in a slightly quavering voice.

"Good." Harry said; amazing them all, even himself to some extent. "You know what, I'm glad he's dead."

"Harry?" Hermione asked, not in shock, but in surprise certainly.

"Yesterday – I mean a few days ago – I wouldn't have said that, but you know if he'd been arrested he'd have escaped, and killed someone else. At least this way he can't hurt anyone."

Harry felt an episode of pain coming on for his throat, and fought desperately to prevent any more coughing, he didn't want them to be thrown out.

"You okay Harry?" Ginny asked, concerned.

"Yeah." He said eventually. "Just trying not to cough. Hurts to talk."

"We can go if you want." Hermione told him.

Harry shook his head. "Please don't."

"Well, we'll talk, you can listen." Ron said.

They weren't allowed to stay much longer by Madam Pomfrey though, nor was Remus allowed to visit him again that night. The healer had had enough, and was quite strict when Harry had begged her to let them stay. He soon fell asleep however, and without the aid of any potions. His body seemed to be using all of his energy to heal itself.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry had two more visits of real note, before he was released at the weekend. That wasn't to say that he did not enjoy the other visits, for he certainly did: the laughs (when he was recovered enough not to find them painful), the company, even the class notes that Hermione brought with her; all were most appreciated, but the visits that stood out the most, were those of the Weasley family, and Dumbledore.

Madam Pomfrey, it appeared, had been holding back a crowd of people that wished to see him, convinced that it would set back his recovery. The Weasleys, however, all appeared on the Wednesday afternoon, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were in their classes. Everyone was there: Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George – even Percy. The prodigal son of the family was the only one that held back as they first saw Harry, and Mrs Weasley's greeting would have made him feel quite embarrassed if he had been feeling anywhere near normal.

It was Fred and George that first offered more than wishes of good health, but their thanks as well. They looked the most harried of any of them there, probably, Harry thought, because of the consequences they faced after not escorting Harry, Ron, and Hermione back to the castle. As if they could have, or any of their family would have even, after hearing Ginny was in danger.

"Thanks for what you did for Ginny, mate." Fred said.

"Yeah, I don't know what we can do to make up for it, but name it." George said. "We'd let you take anything you wanted from our shop, but you're already the only reason we got to start it, and it wouldn't be anywhere near enough anyway."

"I didn't do it for the thanks." Harry said hurriedly. "I did it because I didn't want to see Ginny die, not because I wanted any of you to feel, to feel obligated to me or something."

"And that is why you deserve them." Mr Weasley said, eyes twinkling. "You risked your own life, knowingly put yourself in the way of a curse meant for our daughter, and didn't do it for any reason other than you wanted to save her life. You may not want our thanks, Harry, but you have them, and anything we can do to help you."

"You've already done more for me than anyone." Harry told them. "It should be me thanking you, not the other way around. I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you Mrs Weasley, or you, Mr Weasley. I wouldn't have even found out how to get onto Platform nine and three-quarters if it wasn't for you. It's me that owes you."

Mrs Weasley's eyes glistened, and she leant forward and gave Harry what started off as a huge hug, until she remembered that he was still an invalid. Percy continued to stay quiet, and refused to meet Harry's eye. It wasn't that he looked like he didn't _want_ to be there, but rather that he felt like he shouldn't be there.

The Weasleys stayed for most of the afternoon, until Madam Pomfrey decided that her patient needed a break, and she ended up trying both to shepherd them away, and prevent Ginny from entering to visit. Percy, who had kept as much distance between them as he could for most of the stay, was the last to go. He allowed his family to move away so they couldn't hear what he said.

"You're probably wondering why I came to see you." He said, in a low, but matter of fact, tone. He turned to look at Harry for what was almost the first time.

"I did. Kind of." Harry said awkwardly. "I mean…"

"After the things I wrote to Ron, I know." Percy took a deep breath. "I – I wanted to see if you were okay Harry."

There was a vulnerability to his voice that Harry had never heard before. His normal self certain smugness had been replaced by something else – he did not seem anywhere near as sure of himself any more. Percy looked away, pushing his glasses back into place, in what seemed a nervous manoeuvre rather than anything else. He looked instead, at his family, who were talking to the newly arrived Ginny.

"Thank you for what you did for Ginny." Percy continued, after Harry had said nothing.

I didn't do it for the thanks." Harry repeated awkwardly, before plunging forward. "She's a great person, your whole family are. You're lucky to have them."

"I know." Percy said in a muted voice.

"You really hurt them you know." Harry said, causing Percy to look at him sharply, and although Harry felt uncomfortable at lecturing someone that was older than him on how to treat his family, he continued anyway. "Don't hurt them again."

Percy stood up, probably affronted, Harry thought. "I never intended to hurt them. I just wanted them not to get in any trouble."

He walked away stiffly, not offering a goodbye. Harry wasn't surprised, perhaps he shouldn't have said it, but he didn't want Percy reducing Mrs Weasley to tears again.

"I'll come back this evening." Ginny waved to Harry, from behind Madam Pomfrey's determined figure, as she succeeded in pushing them all out of the door.

True to her word, she did come back that evening, along with Hermione and Ron. In fact, Harry was so much recovered by this time, that Madam Pomfrey had to come over to ask _him_ to keep it down, to give the Ravenclaw that was also currently in the ward some peace and quiet (a Quidditch accident). She also interrupted their conversation, which was, coincidently, about Quidditch, where Harry had been promising Ron that he would be fully recovered to play against Slytherin.

"No you won't, Mr Potter. I forbid you from even so much as holding a broom. When the fourteen players are mounting their brooms at the start of that match, you shall be in the stands. Your respiratory system takes a long time to recover, and there is only so much I can do with magic, and potions. That goes double for your Defence Against the Dark Arts duelling sessions."

"But they aren't even real magic!" Harry protested. "The magic can't hurt you!"

"I am well aware of the fact, Mr Potter. The aerobic exercise, however, is far too extreme for you to even contemplate for weeks."

That succeeded in putting a dampener in Harry's spirits more than anything, so the poor Ravenclaw got the tranquillity that was so necessary for them to heal.

Dumbledore appeared on Friday morning, looking rather stern, and giving Harry a nasty feeling in his throat which was quite unrelated to the Pulmelido curse.

"I am glad to see you up and about, Harry." Dumbledore began – Harry was sitting at a desk, going over some of the notes Hermione had given him.

"Thank you sir."

Dumbledore sat down slowly on Harry's hospital bed, and looked at him through his spectacles. His expression remained serious. He waved his hand, and the separating curtains closed.

"I am not here to scold you Harry, or tell you what I believe you should have, or should not have done. You are quite aware of the things I would have wished you to do, and my saying them would serve no purpose. You know, as well as I do, that the Order of Phoenix is attempting to combat Voldemort in every way we can, and that we wish to keep everyone we can, not least you and your friends, as safe as possible."

"Yeah." Harry replied. "And I know you wanted me to stay away from the fight, but I couldn't…"

"You know the situation Harry," Dumbledore continued, "I have told you all I know about the Prophecy, and about the danger you are in from Voldemort, why exactly he wants to kill you. You have, and he knows that you have, the ability to defeat him."

Harry nodded.

"Then I must ask you why you did what you did." Dumbledore said simply.

"Ginny was in danger!" Harry said indignantly. "I wasn't going to come safely back to the castle when I knew one of my friends might be killed!"

"No, I can understand your decision as regards that," Dumbledore said, but there was still a steely note in his voice, "especially once Fred and George, two men I had entrusted with your safety, disapparated. I can understand why you and your two friends ran to enter the fray. I can even understand why you put yourself on the frontlines, with little thought for your own safety, and why you then entered an abandoned flat. I can understand all of your actions up to a point.

"What I should very much like to know, Harry, is why, once the battle was over, you apparated between Rodolphus Lestrange, and Miss Ginny Weasley, in order to take the deadly curse that was meant for her, when you are well aware that you may possibly be the only person that can defeat Tom Riddle, and in so doing save your friends from a fate that some would consider worse than death."

"What do you mean possibly?" Harry asked bitterly, "The Prophecy is clear isn't it? Either I kill Voldemort, or he kills me, and if I don't kill him no-one can. Besides," he continued recklessly, "Lestrange couldn't have killed me, could he? If I die it has to be by Voldemort's hand."

Dumbledore's face grew graver. "Some prophecies, Harry, to the best of our knowledge have never come to pass, and never will. Just because they have been prophesied does not mean that they will occur."

"Then why does this prophecy matter so much?" Harry asked irritably, "If they might, or might not, happen, then what does it matter that they're made?"

"It matters, in your case, because part of the Prophecy has come true. While that by no means infers that the rest of it will, it is still enough to make you the person best equipped to defeat Voldemort. He has marked you as his equal – remember your scar – which, by process of logical reasoning, has also marked you as the one with the power to vanquish him. That much of the Prophecy has been confirmed, but only that much."

"So… I am still the one with the power to defeat him, but it doesn't mean that I will be the one to defeat him, or that he will be the one to defeat me?" Harry asked, trying to follow the argument."

"Precisely. That indeed, may or may not be true as well, we have no way of knowing." Dumbledore sighed. "Prophecies should not be second guessed Harry."

"But you're telling me not to try to save my friends because of the Prophecy!" Harry said indignantly. "I didn't think about the Prophecy when I apparated, I just wanted to stop Ginny from dying."

"Even though if you die, their best hope of avoiding death at the hands of Lord Voldemort or his supporters dies also?"

"I'm not going to choose between one friend and another if that's what you're asking me to do." Harry told Dumbledore fiercely.

"I am doing no such thing. I simply wish to understand why you did what you did. Why did you apparate between Miss Ginny Weasley and her attacker, knowing that you should be hit by a curse intended to kill?"

Harry stayed silent for a while, staring at the Headmaster, but in reality thinking hard.

"I didn't want her to die." He said eventually – the same thing he had been telling everyone.

"Quite understandable." Dumbledore replied. "But that does not entirely answer my question. There was something else that triggered your decision, was there not? Did you believe that you would survive if hit by the curse, or that you would die?"

Harry said nothing for a few seconds again. "I don't think I was thinking of that at all. I just saw her, standing there, knowing that she was going to die, but not moving out of the way in case someone else was hit instead. And I just… I didn't want her to die." Harry looked away from Dumbledore, towards the window, and mumbled the rest of his statement. "She reminded me of my mum."

"I see." Dumbledore said evenly, and Harry did not turn to see his look. "Very well."

"Why, Professor? Why was that so important?" Harry asked.

"There are the obvious reasons." Dumbledore said, "Ones which I did not for a second believe, but am glad to nevertheless hear a denial – that you were not bothered whether you lived or died, for example. The other…

"Let me tell you a story, Harry, which a friend of mine, Nicolas Flamel, once told me, when I was but a young man myself. It involves two French wizards, and their sons, and an identical prophecy involving each family separately.

"The first man, a wizard called Perinaud, and the second, named Flaurent, stumbled across their respective prophecies one day, as they were working in their yards. The things they heard, shocked them both a great deal, and scared them, but neither rushed into anything. Instead, they used their magical knowledge to relive the prophecy, and study it closely, to make sure they understood what it meant.

"By the time Perinaud had finished, which took him several weeks, he had understood the Prophecy to mean that his son would die while still in his twenties, and that Perinaud would be the one to kill him. Unable to even contemplate doing such a deed, the man destroyed all records of the prophecy, and then killed himself."

"So the prophecy didn't come true." Harry said.

"Quite so. However, the second man, Flaurent, although he came to the same conclusion, killed himself before he had thought to smash all records of the prophecy, and his son proceeded to see the prophecy himself. After a suitable grieving period, the son concluded that the prophecy couldn't come true, and that thus, he could not be killed whilst in his twenties. As a result, he decided to do all the dangerous things he may have wanted to do, but never had the courage to before, safe in the knowledge, that he wouldn't die.

"The son perished three weeks later, while hunting a Dragon. Now tell me Harry, in this second situation, did the prophecy come true?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? The father was dead before the son died."

"True, but consider. If the father had not killed himself, would the son have set out on that mission to kill a Dragon?"

"I guess not. So he would have killed his son because he tried not to? But the first man saved his son by trying the same thing!"

"Indeed."

"But what does that have to do with your questions to me?"

"I leave it for you to decide." Dumbledore said, in a manner that was reminiscent of Harry's Occlumency lessons.

There was a period of silence, during which Dumbledore was obviously waiting for Harry to hazard a theory. He thought hard. How could that story have any bearing on him? Yes, he was in a Prophecy, and those men were, but he had not been trying to change anything in the prophecy, had he?

What was it the men had done? They had listened to a prophecy, and tried to change what was going to happen. What was it Dumbledore had said? Prophecies should not be second guessed. So in the second one, because the man, Flaurent, had believed the prophecy completely, and tried to change it, the Prophecy had come true. And yet in the first, it didn't. So what Dumbledore was saying was…

"Do you mean that if I do something because of what the Prophecy says, then I might complete it, or break it, and I have no way of knowing which?"

"In a fashion, yes. Both men made their decisions based solely upon what their prophecies had said."

"And you thought that I apparated in front of the curse, because I thought I couldn't be killed by anyone other than Voldemort, and that I wouldn't have done it otherwise." Harry finished, understanding at last.

"The Prophecy may, or may not be fulfilled." Dumbledore told him. "But when you decide what you must do, make your decisions with a mind filled only by your own thoughts, not a sense of duty or complacency that may come to be there because of a prophecy. If you look at yourself and decide you do not wish to fight, then do not do so."

There was no way Harry wouldn't fight of course, but he had a sudden, powerful sense of the difference between fighting because of your own beliefs, and fighting because you were forced to, and a feeling, just as strong, that that was what Dumbledore wanted him to know.

"Whether you decide to attempt to vanquish Voldemort, or not, what you do from here is your decision, and I shall not attempt to force you one way or the other. I shall aid you as best I can, if you so desire. Remember, however, that if you do fight Tom Riddle, then it is as a group that we have our best chance, and as a group we must work together."

It was as close as Dumbledore had really got to telling Harry off for not staying out of the fight with the Death Eaters, but it was not phrased as such, but rather as a choice Harry had to make. If he were to fight, then he would have to follow orders – up to a point.

"I want to fight him." Harry said determinedly. "And not because of the Prophecy. Because of what he's done to me, my family, and my friends. I want to be the one to kill him."

Dumbledore inclined his head respectfully. "As you wish. I shall see you at our next Occlumency session, Harry, although it had best be delayed until next Tuesday I fear. Same time." He stood up to leave. "And Harry – get well soon."

* * *

_A/N: I had better say, I think, that I am aware that Occlumency is quite complicated the way I am writing it (and it is meant to be - if it was easy everyone could do it). I am doing my best to explain everything gradually, and make it as simple as I can, just bear in mind that Harry doesn't know how to do everything yet - far from it. He hasn't even done much storing of memories in his new 'Sanctuary'._


	17. Heroes, Healers, and Halloween

**Chapter 17: Heroes, Healers, and Halloween**

Saturday morning dawned, with Harry still stuck in the Hospital Wing. Dobby had delivered some breakfast up to him, and he was steadily making his way through bacon, sausages, tomato, mushrooms, and egg, when Hermione slipped through the parting of the curtain, holding her recently delivered edition of the Daily Prophet in one hand, and a rack of toast in the other. She looked a little put out to see that Harry was already having some breakfast.

"You're off hospital rations I see." She said as way of greeting. "And there was I thinking you might appreciate something other than potions."

"No, I do!" Harry said hastily, "I could do with a bit of toast to go with this."

"Who brought you it?" Hermione asked, almost suspiciously.

"Dobby. And don't look like that just because he's a house-elf. He's also a friend, and you brought me up some food." Harry said pointedly, trying desperately to prevent Hermione from moving back to the subject of S.P.E.W.

"Well I didn't just come up to give you food. You need to have a look at this." Hermione threw down the paper in front of him.

**Ministry Launches Successful Double Strike!**

_The new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, has today revealed the first successful strike towards __the ranks of You-Know-Who's supporters, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. The _Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal an amazing strike at the heart of the Death Eaters as well as the astonishing truth behind the rumours of the Hogsmeade attack last week,__ which was happening at the same time._

_As the attack upon innocent civilians in Hogsmeade began, a combined effort by the Ministry of Magic, and Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and some of the teachers of the said scho__ol, was also under way, in order to uncover the whereabouts of one of You-Know-Who's secret bases of operation._

_There were no serious casualties, the Ministry of Magic announced yesterday evening, although a Hogwarts teacher, rumoured to be Professor Seve__rus Snape, was injured in the attack. Professor Snape has had to fight allegations of involvement with the Death Eaters this summer, and maybe this new information, if true, will finally put these scandalous claims to rest. Neither the Ministry nor Hogwart__s have been willing to comment on these reports however._

_Among those people captured in this raid, was Lucius Malfoy, once highly respected Governor of Hogwarts, but now known as one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most senior Death Eaters. He escaped from __the prison at Azkaban this past summer. Captured with him were many of the other men to have fled the prison at the same time (a full list of whom may be found on page seven), and many items and volumes of great danger, and of use to the Dark Arts__, were seized. _

"Snape helped arrest Malfoy?" Harry asked, blankly. "But they're friends aren't they… you know, from school. I can remember Sirius calling him 'Malfoy's lapdog'."

"Well, he's rumoured to have helped arrest him. But if he did, that would explain why his classes were cancelled;" Hermione told him, looking at him keenly, "he was injured."

"But…" Harry said. "But… if he is working as a spy for us, why would they let his name be mentioned?"

"Well, if Voldemort thinks he's working as a spy for him, then it will probably make him think Snape isn't suspected." Hermione pointed out. "And if he wasn't a spy for us, then how did they know where to go to capture them?"

"Well he isn't suspected, is he? Apart from by me it seems." Harry told her. "Maybe he is working against us, and Voldemort set it up so that people would trust him, maybe he wanted Malfoy to be captured."

"Harry." Hermione said, wearily, "Has there been one year you haven't suspected Snape of something, and how many times have you been right? Why exactly would Voldemort want his own Death Eaters to be captured?"

"I saw him with Voldemort Hermione." Harry reminded her.

Hermione just sighed, and shook her head. "But if he was working for Voldemort, don't you think he'd have tried to kill you, or capture you, or something like that by now?"

"Maybe I'm not important enough for Voldemort to go after yet, if it means that Snape's cover is blown." Harry told her, crossing his fingers behind his back; he didn't want to allow the possibility that Snape was helping them – helping _him _– in his quest to kill Voldemort.

"I can't believe you kept a straight face." Hermione told him, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, that's not the worst part of the article, read on."

Harry obediently turned his eyes back down to the paper.

_This is not all that can now be revealed however: as our readers will be aware, the attack last Saturday was on one of Hogwarts' trips into Hogsmeade, where all students in their third year or above are allowed to attend. We are now assured by__ eyewitnesses that among the students that arrived in Hogsmeade that day, were The-Boy-Who-Lived: Harry Potter, Ginevra Weasley, Felicity Howells, and Timothy Dunn, and all of them were to become involved in the events that took place. _

"They mention Ginny?" Harry said in alarm. "And who are Felicity Howells and Timothy Dunn? Hang on, Timothy Dunn… He's a friend of Jack Sloper isn't he?"

"We didn't want to tell you seeing as you were so bad yourself, but… well, keep reading." Hermione said awkwardly.

_You__ng Timothy Dunn, a fourth year Muggleborn Gryffindor, was cut down as soon as the fighting started, and the Daily Prophet's condolences go out to his family at this time. However, the Ministry, as we have been previously informed, were ready for such an at__tack (for an exclusive, comprehensive list of Death Eaters killed and captured, turn to page seven), although the brave Aurors Sabrina Ferrair, Augnacious Episcopus, and Nathan Barbarus all lost their lives in the battle (for our tribute to these courageou__s souls, turn to page three)._

"Cut down, as in killed?" Harry asked, aghast.

Hermione nodded. "Ginny said that he was in Madam Puddifoot's with them, but ran out of it when the fighting started. He was hit by a curse."

"Dead?" Harry asked again. "What's happening?"

"There was a ceremony for Timothy Dunn on the Sunday, but," and here Hermione looked rather abashed, "to be honest, Ron, Ginny, and I were up here with you for most of the time. All I know is that a couple of people's parents have withdrawn them from Hogwarts, I'm not sure who, except Seamus' mother is trying to take him out. He's refusing, but he isn't of age yet, so he mightn't have any choice."

Harry felt rather sick; another student dead in the middle of term – two in less than three years – and all because of Voldemort. He almost asked Hermione what the rest of the bad news was, sure that there had to be yet more misery in the newspaper report, but instead, bent his head back to the page, to find out himself.

_Thanks to the new eyewitness__ evidence, the_ Daily Prophet _can now reveal a further insight into this battle. The infamous Rodolphus Lestrange, best known for his part in the Longbottom Torturings, was the last Death Eater standing at the end of the battle, and in a final effort to esc__ape, he seized hold of the young third year Hufflepuff: Felicity Howells; attempting to bargain her life for his. In a final, desperate attempt, he also threatened one Ginevra Weasley, a fifth year Gryffindor, claiming that she too would die if wards preve__nting his escape were not lowered._

_In a last stunning twist, The-Boy-Who-Lived apparated between the Death Eater and his intended victim, deflecting the deadly curse back towards its caster, killing him. Rumours have now come to light, that the rebounded __curse may indeed be the most Unforgivable of curses, Avada Kedavra, and if that is the case, then maybe The-Boy-Who-Lived, is, as some sections of the public are claiming, the person that can defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for good. (For further arguments__ for The-Boy-Who-Lived's possible destiny to save our world, turn to page four.)_

_(Miss Ginevra Weasley is sister to Master Ron Weasley, a good friend of Harry Potter's, and Mr.s Fred and George Weasley, the recipients of this month's Entrepreneurs of the __Month award, who, in their interview printed this week, but given before the Hogsmeade attack, have been quite outspoken on their opinions as regards He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the measures that should be taken to combat him. For a full account of the W__easley family's connection to The-Boy-Who-Lived, turn to page two.)_

Harry looked at Hermione, the words sticking in his throat. "They think it was the Avada Kedavra curse? They think I survived it again? And they're telling everyone that I'm going to kill Voldemort?"

Hermione nodded solemnly.

"And why did they have to mention the Weasley family? They… they're setting them up to be targets!" Harry said, his voice rising in alarm.

Hermione looked rather philosophical. "Well, to be honest Harry, Voldemort will already be well aware that you have been almost adopted into the Weasley family, he didn't need the Daily Prophet for that – not when he has the Slytherins. I thought you ought to know the kind of reaction you might get from the public though… and the students."

"So everyone is going to be expecting me to kill Voldemort?" Harry asked again. "Well now he's definitely going to want to get rid of me, isn't he? I mean, if everybody is relying on me to kill him. Don't they know I'm only sixteen?" Harry burst out angrily.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry was finally released from the Hospital Wing the next day, there was less than a week before Halloween, and only a few days after that was the match against Slytherin. Ron and Ginny were at Quidditch practice, and Harry would have loved the feel of air rushing past him, but disobeying Madam Pomfrey's orders would not have been worth it, especially as she was threatening to check every practice, and even go along to the Slytherin match to see if he was resting or not. If Harry was honest, he would have had to admit that it still hurt if he took too many deep breaths anyway.

When Harry gave the password ('Lilypad') to the Fat Lady, he was completely unprepared for the cheer that greeted his entrance. In fact, he almost turned around again, and walked back out of the portrait hole. People he'd hardly spoken to were coming up to him and asking how he was. The burning question on most of their minds, however, was whether it had indeed been the Killing curse that hit him.

"No it wasn't Avada Kedavra!" Harry roared finally, his throat wincing as he did so. "Since when did the Daily Prophet get anything right about me?"

He pushed his way through the crowd, attempting to get to his dormitory. He had a vague idea that if he got to the Marauder's Map, he would be able to see where all the sane people in the castle were. Before he reached the stairs though, he spotted Jack Sloper and a couple of his friends, sitting very quietly, not looking quite as enamoured with Harry as everybody else was.

After a moment's deliberation, Harry altered his route to move towards them. He felt he ought to say something, even though he knew that he had wanted to be left alone when Sirius died.

"Jack?" He began. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry to hear about Timothy."

The three fourth years looked at him, with dislike in their eyes.

"Yeah?" Sloper asked. "Doesn't do him much good, does it? You're the hero that saved Weasley's life, but he's dead."

"What did I do?" Harry asked, half annoyed, but mainly in utter surprise.

"What did you do?" One of Sloper's friends said in a bitter, sarcastic tone. "The only reason You-Know-Who sent anyone there was because you were there."

"And how did you figure that out?" Harry asked, coldly. "I wasn't even around when the attack happened."

"You still managed to save Weasley though, didn't you?" Jack Sloper said, resentfully. "Diggory died because of you, didn't he? And now Tim has too."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he suddenly realised that the crowd that had been surrounding him once he came in, were now surrounding the four of them, glaring at the three fourth year Gryffindors who seemed to have a problem with him.

"Were any of you there?" Harry asked icily. "He was dead before I was, but maybe you could have done something."

He turned, pushing through the crowd once more, and stalked, this time with no interruptions, up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. The first thing he did was to grab his Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauders Map. Hermione was in the library.

Harry walked quickly once he exited the common room portrait, churning over the reasons that he was being blamed for his fellow Gryffindor's death. It's not as if he could have been there any sooner, and anyway, once he did get there, he just made things worse. How could he have done anything to stop it? Or did he die because Harry got there? Was it because of him that Dunn ran out of Madam Puddifoot's?

No, it couldn't have been, the Daily Prophet said that Timothy Dunn had been cut down soon after the fighting began, so it couldn't have been his fault. He wasn't even there, he couldn't have changed anything to stop it happening. But since when did the Daily Prophet bother to get its facts right? And Dumbledore and everyone else in the Order hadn't wanted him there… Maybe it was somehow his fault.

_But if I wasn't there, then Ginny might have died,_ he thought fiercely. Ginny didn't have a wand to protect herself, and Harry still wasn't sure what shield he had used to reflect the curse, so how would Ginny have survived if he hadn't been there? _No_, he told himself mulishly, _they can tell me I should have followed orders all they wa__nt, but at least I saved Ginny. _

What was really irritating Harry, was that he could see why Dean could be angry with him, and why anyone else whose family or friends had been killed just because they knew him, might hate him. But this fourth year – he had never even spoken to him. It's not as if he, Harry, could have done anything to make, or prevent, him being a target. That was, if he _was _targeted.

He shed his Invisibility Cloak just outside the library, and walked in, causing people to crane their necks, and start whispering. Maybe he was imagining it, but Madam Pince seemed to be looking at him in an annoyed manner as if the sudden outbreak of noise was his fault. Harry spotted Hermione sitting down at a table with her back to the door, and walked over, sliding into a chair beside her.

"Hi." He said.

"Oh!" Hermione said, startled. "Oh, you're out of the Hospital Wing. But I th-" She paused, looking at him. "What's up Harry, you look all hot and bothered?"

Harry glanced at the librarian. "I'll tell you when Madam Pince isn't looking at me as if all this muttering is my fault."

Hermione looked around, seemingly noticing the sudden outbreak in noise for the first time, and nodded understandingly.

Harry stood up again, and withdrew a random book from the shelf, and started to read. It was titled: 'Virgaemin – The Masters of Wandless Battle Magic'; and looked to Harry to be well thumbed, until he flicked through the pages and found the ones at the end barely touched.

Harry did eventually explain to Hermione about his altercation with Jack Sloper. "I'm not even really bothered by all this belief that I'm some kind of Messiah – I'm used to it. But how is it my fault that their friend died! I mean, I'm used to people hating my guts as well, but I usually know why, even if they haven't a clue about what really happened."

"It's probably a lot of different things." Hermione said sympathetically. "He's been annoyed with you and Ron since the beginning of term anyway, because you dropped him as a Beater, and his friends probably feel annoyed at you on his behalf. Then these Death Eaters appear and kill one of his best friends, and you and Ginny manage to walk away. He's been rude to Ginny too, you know?"

"But-" Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"And then on top of all that, there is all this stuff in the Prophet about you saving people, and being the person who's going to save all of us against Voldemort, and here is his best friend just having died, and everyone is ignoring it. And maybe they're even thinking that if you saved Ginny, you should have been able to save Dunn."

"And how exactly was I meant to stop any of that happening?" Harry demanded.

"I know it's not fair, Harry. You couldn't have done anything, but not everyone thinks logically when they are upset. They can't stop to think things through, because they already know what they want to believe; and sometimes it's hard to admit it if people point that out to you. None of it is your fault, but there's no point trying to prove anything to him. Just don't let it bother you."

"I guess." Harry sighed. "Is that why Ginny looks so tired all the time at the moment? Because Sloper's been having a go at her?"

"No." Hermione replied calmly.

"Then why? I thought she'd be getting more sleep after – after I started to recover – you know, like you and Ron have, but she's looking worse."

Hermione looked at him in an almost pitying fashion. "Isn't it obvious Harry?"

"Obviously not." Harry told her. "Or I wouldn't be asking you."

Hermione looked like she was debating whether to tell him why or not.

Eventually, she said, gently, "Harry… You almost died trying to save her life. And for a while we thought you were dead, and we didn't know you were going to be okay until you woke up on Monday. How do you think she feels?"

Harry went rather red, but said nothing. Instead, he remembered just how hard he had beaten himself up because Sirius had died protecting him.

"But I'm better now, so what's the problem? No harm done at all!" He said eventually.

Hermione looked at him pityingly once more. "Try putting yourself in her place Harry, no harm done this time maybe, but what if it happens again? And that isn't the only thing." But Hermione trailed off.

"What else then?" Harry demanded, but this time Hermione didn't explain.

"It's not fair on her if I… Look, if you can't think of any other reason, but want to find out, then ask her yourself. If she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

"Well, I hope she starts to sleep soon, she'll need her energy for the Quidditch match against Slytherin."

Hermione bent her head back to her books, and muttered in disbelief. "Quidditch. Is that all you three think about?"

"Ginny as well?" Harry said, amused.

"Since Madam Pomfrey said you couldn't play, all she and Ron have talked about is Quidditch tactics." She said indistinctly, as she settled back down to work.

Harry quickly tired of the book he had withdrawn, it seemed to have been written by somebody with all the personality of a quill with a broken point, or maybe even Professor Binns. The idea behind it was one that would normally have gripped Harry, and most other students: tips as to master the usage of wandless magic. Maybe the real reason that there were so few Virgaemin around, was because you had to struggle through books like these if you wanted to become one.

Ron was indeed talking about nothing but Quidditch, as Harry soon found out when he next saw him.

"Look, Harry, can you come down to the practice sessions and watch, maybe see if you can spot something that I haven't? And maybe you could give Emily some tips about Malfoy?"

"What, that he's the dirtiest player in the school?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, exactly." Ron said. "The whole team is dirty, and they've all played together before. Why did you have to be out for this one?"

"Trust me, I want to play this match even more than you want me to." Harry told him.

Quite apart from the fact that he just wanted to play, he wished that it wasn't the Slytherin match he was missing. He had never lost to Slytherin yet, and Emily Crowley, his young replacement, wouldn't have a fun debut – a far better debut match would be against Hufflepuff, the weakest of the three opposing houses.

"Yeah, well." Ron said, looking almost petrified at the task before him. "We haven't lost to Slytherin since you joined the team, and I don't want to be the first captain to lose to them again. I mean, without you playing…"

"I know Ron. But you'll be fine. Trust me."

"I almost lost the game single-handedly last year." Ron moaned.

"Look, you won us the Cup last year, so don't worry about the Gryffindor Keeper." Harry said sternly. "He'll be fine. You're the captain; just make sure you worry about everyone else, and what they should be doing."

But no matter what Harry said, he couldn't shift Ron's nerves. He was, at least, doing a better job than last year when Slytherins threw insults at him across the corridor. The fact that the Gryffindors anywhere near started up a chant of 'Weasley is our King' probably helped. Harry also had a word with Emily Crowley about Malfoy, but he didn't want to scare her.

"Remember," He finished, "the reason Malfoy plays dirty, and cheats, is because he's a rubbish flyer. He's never beaten me to the Snitch – you have. You can outfly him any day of the week – just try not to let him get too close to you."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry was grateful when he returned to classes the next week, because it meant that the attention wasn't directed at him wherever he walked. Dinner on Sunday, and breakfast on Monday morning had been almost unbearable, but once the classes started, people started to focus on other things. Maybe they were so used to him being the subject of attention that it took less time for them to get bored with it all than previously.

The tactical Defence Against the Dark Arts class that day was based around teamwork, and fighting with people against a large group of opponents. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Aravenne was looking at him for a lot of the class, but just dismissed it as nothing. That was, until Aravenne asked him to stay behind after class. The Professor waited until all of his class mates had left, closing the door behind them, and then sat on the edge of his desk.

"I wanted to congratulate you, Mr Potter." He began.

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"On killing your first Death Eaters. Well done."

Harry looked at his teacher with a furrowed brow. "But…" He stopped, not knowing what to say.

"The world is a better place without those two people in it, Mr Potter, killing them was a service to Britain, and the whole of the Wizarding world."

Harry said nothing for a few seconds, puzzled. During this time, Aravenne was looking at him intently. Harry had admitted to his friends that he was glad that Lestrange was dead, and he was, but to be congratulated for killing somebody? To be congratulated by a teacher? That was wrong, wasn't it? And what was this about two people?

"I only killed Rodolphus Lestrange." He said eventually. "And then I didn't really mean it, it just… hit off my shield and rebounded."

"Really?" Aravenne asked in surprise, "I heard that a Death Eater that went after you was found dead in a hallway."

"Oh." Harry said momentarily perplexed as to why Aravenne had that idea. "Oh, he… the other man died… because of an accident, the stairs gave way, it wasn't anything to do with me."

"Is that so?" Aravenne replied sceptically, as if he didn't believe Harry for some reason. "Well, nevertheless, congratulations in getting rid of Rodolphus Lestrange then."

Seeing Harry's face, which was bemused, guilty, incredulous, suspicious, and a couple more expressions for good measure, all at the same time, Aravenne continued. "I happen to be unfortunate enough to know Rodolphus Lestrange, and his wife Bellatrix Black of old. Trust me, with those people, either they kill hundreds of people, or you kill them. All Death Eaters are the same."

His face had a very ugly look on it, which surprised Harry even more. He had grown used to Aravenne being seemingly in control all the time. His lessons exuded confidence and an intrinsic sort of discipline which nobody dared test, and yet here he was revealing a hate of the Lestranges that few could match – and for the Lestranges, that was probably saying something.

"Professor?" Harry asked, somewhat cautiously.

Aravenne seemed to come out of a reverie. "Yes?"

"How did you know the Lestranges?"

"Oh!" He shook his head, as if ridding himself of unpleasant memories. "I happened to go to school with them. In a different year of course. They were just as bad then, as they are now. Well, as one of them was a week ago." He finished with satisfaction.

"Oh, right. Did you want me for anything else?" Harry asked, eager to leave the room; he felt completely off kilter with the way Aravenne was acting.

"Yes, I did. Madam Pomfrey has not so much requested, as ordered me not to include you in any duels tomorrow." He smiled, seemingly forgetting all about the previous conversation. "I was going to give you a choice. You can come along and watch, or else catch up on some of the work you've missed in the library. It is up to you."

"Thanks. Um, I'll probably come along and watch. Hermione Granger gave me her notes while I was in the Hospital Wing."

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher nodded. "I might suggest you concentrate on tactics, and tactical situations, that is probably the area you need to focus on the most."

Harry nodded, and walked to the door with a muttered 'Thanks'. Before he could open the door however, Aravenne stopped him.

"By the way Mr Potter, what shield did you use to reflect Rodolphus Lestrange's curse? I don't believe I have taught you any shield strong enough to reflect the Pulmelido curse so far."

"I don't remember, sir. I can't remember much about what happened at all."

Aravenne hmmed, but said nothing else. By the time Harry left the room, the Slytherins and Ravenclaws were waiting to enter. Harry pushed his way through them, not looking at anyone. He was just glad to go. He spent the practical Charms lesson devoted to mending broken bones, telling Hermione and Ron what had happened.

There was another reaction to Rodolphus Lestrange's death that Harry found rather surprising, and that came from Neville Longbottom.

He cornered Harry, and began, quite abruptly, by asking: "Did you really kill him Harry? Lestrange is dead, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's dead." Harry replied, not really knowing what else to say.

A strange expression came across Neville's face: it seemed both wistful, and relieved. It, had, of course, been the two Lestranges that were instrumental in torturing his parents, in turning them into the shells of human beings that they were today.

"When I was young," He muttered, "I used to dream that I would kill them both. Gran and Uncle Algie always made sure I knew why Mum and Dad were… like they were. I just wanted Mum and Dad back, and I used to dream that killing them would make everything okay. Then I grew up and found I was rubbish at magic, and wouldn't have a chance, or the guts to do it.

"Gran told Mum and Dad that he was dead. She said they didn't even seem to hear her. I kind of hoped… that it was because he was still alive. And yet I want him to be dead too."

Neville turned away, his shoulders slumping. Harry had an almost uncontrollable urge to grab him, and say something to make him feel better, but what, he had no idea. It was as if Neville was being taunted. His parents were there, but just out of reach.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry saw Snape next, in his Potions lesson, he wasn't surprised to see Snape showing no signs of injury whatsoever (which Hermione told him was to be expected seeing as Harry, himself, was fit again), but he was a little bemused by the reception the Slytherins gave him. Okay, some of the Slytherins – a very few – didn't seem to have openly shown their allegiance to Voldemort yet, but Snape had supposedly arrested Malfoy's dad, and he was still being treated respectfully by all of them.

"Now what do you think about Snape being a traitor?" Ron asked Hermione, taking the words out of Harry's mouth. "Even _Malfoy_ was treating him normally."

"Ron, he's a _spy_," Hermione replied in a tone which suggested absolute exasperation, "and he's also the head of Slytherin. He could have told them anything he wanted to make them believe he was still working for Voldemort rather than against him."

"I don't believe you Hermione." Ron said, irritably, "Despite all the evidence you refuse to see what is obvious. Snape. Is. A. Death Eater! What is he going to tell Malfoy to stop him being annoyed at him then? I led the Ministry and Dumbledore to arrest your dad, but I'm still working for You-Know-Who really?"

"Well he's going to have to say something similar either way, whether he is our spy or not." Hermione said, firing up. "So it makes no difference, Ron."

"But maybe he already knew it was going to happen, and that his father will be rescued." Suggested Harry. "It'd be far easier to convince him if he knew what was going to happen beforehand, wouldn't it? Maybe Malfoy knows that it's just a part of Voldemort's plan to make the Ministry and Dumbledore believe Snape is working for them."

"You two just can't get over the fact that you were wrong about him in first year." She said angrily, and stalked ahead of them.

"What is her problem about Snape?" Ron asked Harry. "I mean, it's obvious, isn't it."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's because she knows Dumbledore trusts him still."

"I don't get that, either." Ron said, kicking the ground.

The rest of the week, and Halloween, passed by without much incident whatsoever, unless you count Harry's failed attempt to prove his fitness to Madam Pomfrey, in a final, last ditch effort to play in the Quidditch match. He was (almost) feeling as fit as a fiddle (whatever that meant, he thought to himself), although he still had slight pains now and then, but it was nothing particularly bad, and nothing that he was going to admit to. But, while she checked and double checked his health, as though trying and failing to find something to stop him playing, she held firm.

"No Mr Potter, you may resume light duelling in your lessons – and by light, I mean just one duel at first, and at the first sign of pain you must stop – but Quidditch is out of the question. You have a reserve do you not?"

"Yes." Harry muttered.

"Then Gryffindor's Quidditch team will do fine without you."

"But-"

"No buts, Mr Potter. When the match starts, you will be sitting firmly in the stands. And I will be there to check, so don't get any ideas."

"She knows I'm fit enough to play." Harry grumbled to Ron that evening, as they were going over final strategies. "She couldn't find anything wrong with me – she even said I could start duelling again."

"So the DA is on again next week?" Ron asked.

"I guess so..." Harry replied, marvelling how the subject of the DA never seemed to drop.

"Well I believe you when you say you're fit enough mate. How about we-" Ron began, but Harry interrupted him.

"No use. She's going to go to the match to make sure we don't try anything. And anyway, you've already done all your strategies, and everyone knows who's playing." Harry punched the arm of his chair in anger. "I haven't played a Quidditch match for a year now. If Pomfrey has her way, she'll ban me from Quidditch this year too."

"We could really do with you mate." Ron said anxiously.

"You'll be fine." Harry said quickly, remembering that it wasn't a good idea to let Ron start to feel the nerves champing away at his insides. "Emily's more than a match for Malfoy. Trust me, I'm the one who's flown against them both."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the whole of the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the Great Hall the next morning, Malfoy was looking rather smug, for in front of him was laid a new broom. A Firebolt. He had placed it in front of him in such a manner, that it was impossible for the Gryffindor team to miss it.

"Of course," He drawled lazily, to Pansy Parkinson, as they passed him, "Potter is really fit to play you know. I imagine that he heard about the present that was sent to me the other day, the Firebolt, you know. He knows that he'd never beat me if we were flying with the same broom, he just isn't good enough to live with me."

"Where did you get that from Malfoy?" Ginny asked cuttingly. "I thought your dad was in Azkaban, and everything you owned seized by the Ministry."

"Weasley, even with my father not being around, he can still put his hands on more money than yours will earn in a life time."

"You know, he might be right." Dean replied, "I heard that the Ministry spent a king's ransom of Galleons on the new cells in Azkaban."

Malfoy ignored him. "You know, I almost feel sorry for that first year. Everyone else is too scared to fly against me, so they're putting her there instead. Easy to blame first years, isn't it Potter?"

"Malfoy, you couldn't catch the Snitch if it perched on your broom. Remind me, how many times have you caught the Snitch against Gryffindor?" Harry asked, firing up.

It was Ron's voice which halted the exchange of words. "Team, come on. Breakfast, and then a quick check on conditions. You'll get to embarrass Malfoy on the pitch."

"How about you remind me Weasley: did you make a single save last year?" Malfoy called after them, and it was only Hermione's hand on Ron's shoulder that stopped him turning around and forgetting his own instructions.

Harry watched his friend's ears turn crimson, with concern.

"Remember," He hissed, before the two of them sat down, "you're the captain, and this is most of our players' first match, you've got to make sure they're okay, and give them instructions. Remember why you were made Captain in the first place; you're great at strategising, so tell everyone what they should be doing on and off the pitch."

It seemed to work, and Ron was so busy making sure his six team mates ate, that he forgot to pick at his own food and ate hungrily himself. It was, Harry felt, a good sign from Ron's point of view. The two youngest members of the team, Demelza Robins, and Emily Crowley looked absolutely petrified however, and Harry's heart went out to Emily in particular. He vividly remembered his first match, also against Slytherin, and being told by someone, Seamus he thought, that he had better eat because Seekers always got targeted.

Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he tried to buoy Emily's spirits up.

"So what if Malfoy's got a Firebolt?" He asked her. "You've flown against Harry, haven't you? And no-one else has ever beaten him on his Firebolt. You know what to do, you've done it enough in practice. If you weren't good enough for this, I wouldn't have bothered going to McGonagall to let you bring your broom to school. There aren't many people who fly better than you, and Malfoy isn't one of them."

"She'll be okay when she's in the air." Harry muttered to Ron, "It's just the wait that's making her nervous."

"Hope so." Ron said, slightly anxiously. "Well, see you later, I'll take them down and get them ready."

"Right." Harry said, for some reason butterflies beginning to form in his own stomach.

"Aren't you going to wish us luck?"

"Luck?" Harry said out loud. "You won't need it. The game's in the bag mate."

"I wish I was there with them." Harry groaned to Hermione, as the Quidditch team left for the changing rooms.

"Well, what if you ended up just as bad as you ever were before?" Hermione asked reasonably. "It's worth it to be on the safe side."

"As long as I caught the Snitch and we won, I wouldn't care." Harry moaned.

"Don't be silly." Hermione told him sternly. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, we can go down early and get good seats."

"I was already planning on that!" Harry said, half-indignantly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was indeed at the match, and she cast a swift eye towards the Gryffindor stands, before she spotted Harry. Harry felt a small amount of resentment inside him well up towards her. _He was fine!_

It was an overcast day, with slight drizzle, but no winds, and Harry found himself tapping his glasses almost automatically with his wand, and muttering 'Impervious'.

"Thanks for that charm, Hermione." He grinned to his side. "You've no idea how useful it's been."

A Ravenclaw third year, Jerome Bulley, was doing the commentary today, and his young voice rang out, magnified by the microphone, as the sides took the field.

"And here comes Gryffindor's team. It's a new look lineout, with four players making their debuts. The captain Ron Weasley leads out his players, followed by Bell, Weasley, Robins, Thomas, Coote, and Crowley, the new first year Seeker. Harry Potter was ruled out of this game of course, after the attack in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago, which means that Gryffindor are blooding their new talent.

"No-one has seen her fly much so far, but I've been assured by Professor McGonagall that the only reason she is allowed her own broom in school is because she is an amazing talent. Crowley of course is only the second first year to play Quidditch here this century, after Potter himself."

The commentary was, as usual, greeted by cheers and applause by the Gryffindor supporters, and jeers by the Slytherins, especially when he mentioned the Gryffindor Seekers.

"And here come the Slytherins! Captain Malfoy has recently acquired a Firebolt, maybe his father looted it before he was caught by the Ministry-"

Jeers and boos met his statement, along with laughs, and a huge round of applause. It wasn't, however, quite so well received in the staff stands.

"Bulley!" McGonagall roared in anger, and she could be heard without aid of the microphone.

"Sorry Professor, didn't know I wasn't allowed to refer to politics. I won't mention his father being a Death Eater again. Promise! Anyway, here come Malfoy, Vaisey, Urquhart…"

Harry sniggered, and looked at Hermione, who was looking rather concerned. "Come on." He said, "Don't tell me you didn't find that comment about Malfoy's dad funny."

Her face slipped into a short, reluctant grin. "Well, okay. I'm just worried about Ron, that's all."

"He'll be fine." Harry said, crossing his fingers. "He's been really good in the practices, I think he's still confident after last match.

Madam Hooch called Ron and Malfoy to her to shake hands, which both of them looked particularly loath to do. However, after the merest grasp of a handshake, the two of them took to the air, to join their teams. With a sharp blow on her whistle, the balls were released, and she threw the Quaffle high into the sky.

"And Bell catches the Quaffle, a quick pass back to Weasley, who moves the ball on to Robins. Robins – OUCH – but the referee says no foul, Robins gets away from her two opponents and passes the ball to Weasley. Slytherin are going into these challenges hard – or trying to, beautiful dummy by Katie Bell there. And Weasley is flying over the top of her, and grabs the ball as it's thrown. She's past the Slytherin Chasers, and Bletchley is coming out to meet her. She shoots! So close, Gryffindor almost open the scoring immediately!"

It had been close as well, Bletchley had just got a fingertip on it to divert it wide of the left hoop. It hadn't been the Loganstock's Leap as they had practiced it, but it had been a pretty good variation of it, and it could only give the Gryffindor Chasers confidence. Slytherin surged back immediately, but they soon found that Ron was up for the game too, although it had been a bit of a weak shot by Urquhart. The first save may have been easy however, but the second, third, and fourth were all top class. Unfortunately, Bletchley was having a blinder as well, and for the first ten minutes, the game remained scoreless, and the Snitch wasn't even spotted.

Emily was taking care to stay out of trouble's way, but Malfoy was sticking with her, and seemed to have set one of the Beaters, Crabbe, to aim for her constantly. Goyle was targeting Demelza Robins, as was the entire Slytherin Chaser line-up it seemed. Time and time again they went in on her hard, and although she dodged most of the attacks by ball or man, her confidence was disappearing faster than Hermione's best transfiguration charm. Slytherin were rapidly getting the edge in that battle, and Ron was finding himself deluged with saves to make, but even in his current form he couldn't stop them all.

"And it's Urquhart again!" Jerome Bulley's voice rang out. "And this time he scores. Sixty – Forty to Slytherin. And the Gryffindor Captain is furious. He can't understand how Vaisey got away with what looked like fairly blatant cobbing to me on Robins."

The Gryffindor fans were also adding their voices to Ron's. The Slytherins seemed to be trying to do whatever they could without quite straying over the line, and giving away a penalty. Harry's voice however, wasn't with theirs; instead, he was staring at Emily Crowley, who had suddenly shot off towards the Slytherins' goal hoops. No-one else seemed to have spotted it for a while, until the Slytherin fans' voices raised themselves urgently, begging their players to look around.

Malfoy shot after her, as did Crabbe, who smashed a Bludger in her direction. She avoided it easily, and continued to hare after the Snitch. Malfoy was gaining on her, but she was following the Snitch with the air of someone who had but one goal in mind. She swerved two more Bludgers from Crabbe, and rose into the air, following the Snitch's change in trajectory. She put out her hand to catch it, but it was still just a little too far away.

She started to slow down. Just as he had to Harry a couple of years earlier, Malfoy had leant forward, and grabbed the end of her broom. The whistle blew fiercely, giving a penalty to Gryffindor. Emily Crowley turned around in anger, but as she did so, she turned her back to Crabbe. He swung his bat at a passing Bludger, and – WHAM – it hit a glancing blow to the back of Emily's head.

Malfoy let go of the broom, triumphant. Emily and her broom, however, were falling in the same direction as the blood that was coming out of the wound to her skull. Downwards. It was only the fact that she had locked her legs around the handle that was preventing her from falling off, for she was dangling dangerously upside down, unconscious.

Pandemonium broke out. Ron and Dean had to be restrained from physically pummelling Malfoy, Madam Hooch was yelling herself hoarse, and blowing the whistle shrilly, and Madam Pomfrey was on the pitch tending to the fallen first year, who had dropped to earth like a stone. She magicked a stretcher, and levitated Emily Crowley up to the castle, and was soon out of sight. Madam Hooch however was still remonstrating with Malfoy, Ron with her, and there was general chaos all around on the Quidditch pitch.

"Three penalties to Gryffindor!" Bulley announced. "But surely that can't make up for the loss of their Seeker. The Slytherins will more than happily take this."

The penalties couldn't be taken for a while however; such was the Gryffindor players' indignation. In the end, it was only Ginny and Katie Bell that managed to calm Ron down, and away from Madam Hooch.

"And up steps Katie Bell! Bletchley is trying to put her off – but she scores anyway! Sixty – Fifty, and two penalties to go for Gryffindor. They could momentarily be in the lead, but for how long, without their Seeker?"

Katie did indeed put away the remaining two penalties, to put Gryffindor ahead, and immediately the ball sailed through a hoop for the third time, Ron called for a time out, calling the remaining players into a huddle, to discuss their tactics. Harry, like everyone else, was furious.

"She's let them get away with murder all game!" He yelled. "And she only gives three penalties when Crabbe and Malfoy nearly do it literally! Unbelievable!"

Hermione was white as a sheet, and didn't say a word.

Harry could see Ron and Ginny gesticulating fiercely, Ginny pointing at the stands, and Ron shaking his head. He didn't have a clue what they were talking about, but both of them looked livid. Finally, as Madam Hooch walked over to them to tell them to get back on their brooms, Ron went to meet with her. He seemed to have just about controlled his temper, and was talking to her earnestly until finally she nodded her head, and turned away.

He talked with his sister again for a few moments, and Harry saw where she was pointing this time, it was towards the stand which the first reserve Beater, Jimmy Peakes was sitting in. He just had time to see Ron shake his head again, before Hermione tapped his arm.

"What are they doing?" She asked. "It looks like they're making a substitution or something. I didn't know you could do that in Quidditch."

"You can't." Harry replied, bemused. "At least, not for an injury anyway. If a player is injured then you have to play on until they're fit again, or the game is over."

"So what are they doing then?" Hermione asked.

"I don't kn-"

"Harry!" Ron's voice bellowed across the field. "Get your bloody robes on and your broom! We're making a substitution!"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Harry, you're not well enough, you're not allowed."

But Harry had jumped off his seat, and squeezed out of the stand as quickly as he could, leaving Hermione's remonstrations far behind him. He didn't know what exactly was going on, but he didn't care, he just wanted to be up in the air again. He raced towards the changing rooms, and as he did so, listened to the booming commentary, which at present was asking what was going on.

"And it seems that Gryffindor are going to make a substitution." Bulley was saying nonplussed. "Despite the fact that, as every Quidditch follower knows, substitutions due to injuries are expressly forbidden. Any other substitution request is at the discretion of the referee of course, so maybe she is allowing it for a reason other than injury…"

The game restarted before Harry even reached the changing rooms, where he summoned his Firebolt, and his Quidditch robes from his room. As he did so, he thanked his lucky stars that Madam Pomfrey was too busy to stop any of this; she would be furious, but at least Harry would be able to prove to her that he was fine, when he came through the match without any trouble. He sprinted out onto the pitch, carrying his broom, and hearing loud murmurings from all around him.

"And here comes Potter onto the field, and it really does seem like this change is going to be allowed. Wait. Madam Hooch is signalling for him to wait before mounting his broom. And here come Slytherin again. They are really taking advantage of the extra man, with Chaser Weasley marking Malfoy, Gryffindor are just being overrun with Slytherin players controlling the Quaffle. And Vaisey scores! A hundred and twenty points plays seventy!

"Madam Hooch blows her whistle, signalling play to stop. It seems that Professor McGonagall wants a word with her before the substitution is allowed to take place. This may be as regards Harry Potter's fitness, which we were all led to believe was nowhere near healthy enough for him to take part. Either Gryffindor's hero is not as ill as we all thought, or he is willing to fight through the pain barrier in order to send his side to victory."

Professor McGonagall was talking animatedly to Madam Hooch, and Harry had the distinct feeling that he was being forbidden to play by his Head of House. His momentary relief at Madam Pomfrey's disappearance vanished. Of course, she had probably left instructions that he was not allowed to compete, no matter what.

To Harry's surprise however, despite the fact that he had been looking at Harry sternly, Professor Dumbledore leant forward, placing a hand on McGonagall's arm. He said a few words, which apparently did not go down at all well with Professor McGonagall, but they seemed to be enough to allow Harry to compete.

Madam Hooch flew down to him. "Before I allow you to join the match, I have been requested to ask you a few questions. Firstly, are you completely fit?"

"Yes." Harry told her, defiantly.

"Secondly, have you done anything before today that suggests your body is able to take the rigours of Quidditch – you saw what happened to Miss Crowley, would something like that do more damage to your body than normal?"

"I'm fine." Harry lied. "Okay, I haven't had Bludgers hit at me in the last couple of days, but I'm able to do exercise without any problems."

"Thirdly, have you been forbidden by a Healer from taking part in this game?"

Harry winced internally. They would find out after the match, but by then it would be too late, and anyway, he could say quite truthfully…

"She told me that I couldn't start the game, not that I couldn't come on as a sub if needed."

Madam Hooch gave a glance towards the staff stand, and more particularly, towards McGonagall and Dumbledore, she seemed to make a slight inclination of her head, before turning back to Harry.

"Get on your broom then."

"And I've just been told by Professor McGonagall, that the substitution is going to take place, and Madam Hooch is allowing it because of the fouls made by Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe, not because of the injury itself. I've never heard of a substitution because of fouls happening before, but I suppose it's legal."

It was the turn of the Slytherin fans (and players) to now be beside themselves, and Harry thought it was quite ironic the way that they were now calling foul.

"And it seems that Slytherin's dubious tactics may just have backfired! Yes, they have gained points while the substitution was taking place, but they are now facing Gryffindor's A Seeker, and even if he isn't a hundred per cent fit, Slytherin have a poor record when facing him. Gryffindor must just be hoping that this gamble pays off. And as Potter kicks off, the Quaffle is thrown back into play once more. And Weasley has the Quaffle, now freed from her role of marking Malfoy..."

Ginny and Katie took the offensive, protecting Demelza, who was just behind them, from the Slytherin attacks as best they could, and moving the ball on quickly. Harry shot up into the air, and took stock of the field. There was no telltale flash of gold, and Malfoy seemed to be just as clueless as to where it was. Crabbe smashed a Bludger towards him, and Harry rolled, avoiding it easily. The second time it happened, however, he felt an ominous twinge in his chest.

"Ritchie – guard Harry." Ron yelled out. "You know what to do. Dean, look after the Chasers – don't worry about Goyle, he couldn't hit the castle from ten yards away."

Harry, along with his guard, started to circle the pitch slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch, and trying not to worry about the commentary, or the rest of the game. The Gryffindor supporters had started to sing 'Weasley is our King' once more, which Harry imagined must signal the fact that Ron was having another excellent period guarding the hoops. The evening up of the sides probably helped too.

Suddenly, Harry caught sight of the fluttering of wings in between him and the stand he had minutes ago been sitting in. He turned lazily, so as not to alert Malfoy to the fact that he had seen it, and coasted towards it, still turning his head this way and that, as if he was still looking for the Snitch. Ritchie was flying in front of him, keeping an eye out for any Bludgers.

Harry had just got himself closer to the Snitch than Malfoy, when the Slytherin seemed to realise what he was up to, and he sped towards Harry, obviously not seeing the Snitch himself, but knowing Harry had. Harry flattened himself to the handle, and urged himself forward, feeling another pain, this time in his throat, as he flew straight towards Hermione. Malfoy was now right behind him, but Harry knew that even with his Firebolt, Malfoy wouldn't be able to catch him.

Suddenly, without warning, he coughed violently, as the whistling air flew into his lungs. The broom wavered slightly off course, and Malfoy was gaining upon him. Harry soon recovered, but Malfoy was now travelling at a quicker speed than he was. Harry would have cursed under his breath, but was concentrating too hard on getting to the Snitch first. A Bludger flew past him, missing by inches, and Harry followed it with his eyes towards Gryffindor Beater Ritchie Coote, while still keeping half an eye on the Snitch.

It was almost as if he had been sent an invisible command. As Ritchie's bat hit it back towards them, Harry rolled to the side, just as Emily Crowley had done to him in practice. A glance behind him showed a completely unprepared Malfoy rear up, and be struck directly on the rib cage. His broom fell down to earth, head over heels, completely out of control. Harry quickly looked forwards again, momentarily losing sight of the Snitch, but he spotted it once more almost instantly, and sped towards it to make the easy catch.

As Bulley yelled out the final score ('two hundred and sixty plays one hundred and forty!'), and the ending remarks to his commentary, the entire Gryffindor team sped towards him, embracing him madly, and causing them all to tumble into the stands, amongst their supporters. It also caused a nasty jolt of pain to spear through his body.

"You did it Harry!" Ron yelled, as he and Ginny gave him a hug so powerful, that he found himself wincing, and tears came to his eyes.

"Let me breathe." He choked out.

But only Ron and Ginny seemed to appreciate the request, and the reason behind it, and they were hard pressed to prevent Dean, or Ritchie from smashing him on the back.

"I told you I'd get Malfoy for you!" Ritchie yelled joyfully. "Look at him, he's still out cold on the ground!"

"Give him room!" A furious voice roared. "Or you'll put him back in the Hospital Wing."

The crowd around him parted slightly, to reveal Hermione. Harry slipped onto a seat, bent over double, in order to pant fiercely and feel his sore chest.

"And you Harry!" She yelled angrily. "Look at yourself! Madam Pomfrey told you you weren't fit to play, and now look! You'll be in the Hospital Wing for another week at this rate!"

"I got the Snitch." Harry panted. "We won."

"Who cares whether you won or not? It's only a stupid game!" Hermione shouted heatedly. "You're coming with me. You need to see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine." Harry said, trying to straighten up, but finding his body ached too much. "It wasn't the match anyway that did it, it was the celebrations."

Most of the Gryffindors around him laughed, but Hermione stayed angrily silent. Ron and Ginny looked rather concerned.

"And you, Ron." Hermione continued fiercely. "You knew Madam Pomfrey had forbidden Harry to play, how could you bring him on as a substitute?"

"Harry said he was fine." Ron said defensively.

"Don't give me that rubbish, you were more interested in winning a game than Harry's health. And you Ginny – how could you let him?"

Hermione's tirade, however, was cut short by the fact that Harry was having another coughing fit.

"Hermione's right." Ron said quickly, seemingly throwing Hermione off guard for a second or two by agreeing with her. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry. I thought you said you were fine? Can someone give me a hand? We'll help him up there."

"I am fine." Harry said, standing up.

He was suddenly struck by a strange feeling of weakness, and slumped back down on to the seat.

"Just give me a minute." He muttered.

He couldn't say another word, nor could he muster a complaint, however, before Dean and Ron went either side of him, and half supported, half carried him back up towards the school, followed by an entourage of Gryffindor supporters, which was whittled down to the Gryffindor team and Hermione as they entered the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey, who was at that moment dealing with a rather ashen faced Draco Malfoy, who, as always, seemed to be milking his injury for all that it was worth, turned as they entered, with a face so fierce, that everyone except Harry, Dean, and Ron took a pace or two backwards.

"Put him there." She said, pointing to a bed, "And then kindly leave. Mr Potter will not be allowed any visitors."

"Miss Crowley." She said, turning to Emily, who was looking rather pale. "Take this blood replenishing potion, and then you may go. As for you Mr Malfoy, there is nothing more I can do for you. You shall have to put up with those minor aches and pains."

Harry watched the two other patients leave with some trepidation. He was not looking forward to the ticking down he would now receive. Especially as Madam Pomfrey had been proved right.

He was right not to, too. He was obviously not in a bad enough condition to avoid chastisement this time around, for he was made to squirm uncomfortably, before he was forced to take potions, and settle down to an unpleasant day stuck in the Hospital Wing, with no visitors, and nothing to take his mind off things. As Harry lay there, feeling ever more lonely, and sore, he couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he hadn't even been struck by a Bludger, or collided with an opponent. Maybe he really should have listened to Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, own up, how many of you thought that I was chickening out of writing a Quidditch match with Harry's injury? Go on :P! I was looking for something different to the norm, and hope I found it. _


	18. Question and Answer Sessions

**Chapter 18: Question and Answer Sessions **

Harry's stay in the Hospital Wing was (thankfully) a short one this time – he was released the very next day. He did however have to endure a furious Madam Pomfrey, who ended up removing Harry's permission to duel for that week. But although he wasn't allowed to duel in Aravenne's lesson, he kept his promise to Ron, and set the next DA meeting for the next Thursday.

He was ever more the hero in the eyes of most of the Gryffindors after the way he had come on and caught the Snitch for them, even though he knew (they thought) that if he did so, he'd end up in the Hospital Wing again. It was being looked upon as some strange sort of noble bravery by his housemates. He, himself, was still thinking it was probably stupidity. He had no doubt that people like McGonagall, Pomfrey, Snape, and probably Dumbledore thought of it as an arrogant belief of his that he was untouchable in some way. Maybe Hermione did too.

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, once more to the excitement of most of the people there, he soon spotted Ron and Ginny, who looked to be reliving the match with the rest of the team, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. His Quidditch team mates soon grabbed him, and congratulated him once more on defeating Slytherin, but Harry's mind was only half there.

"Where's Hermione?" He asked Ron.

Ron scowled slightly. "She's off in a huff somewhere. She wanted to keep tearing strips off Ginny and me when we got back to the common room, but we managed to escape. And the party was going on in the evening, so she gave up and ignored us. But anyway – are you okay mate?"

"Yeah." Harry told him. "But honestly, you lot _are_ more dangerous than the entire Slytherin team." He felt his chest with his hand.

Ritchie and Dean just grinned.

"Are you okay, Emily?" Harry asked the nervous first year, who looked like she didn't think she belonged for some reason, but had obviously been pressed into the group by her team mates.

"I'm fine." She mumbled. "Madam Pomfrey was furious when she heard Bulley say you were coming on as a substitute though."

"I know." Harry told her fervently. "At least Ritchie got Malfoy back for you."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Hermione was in the library, Harry discovered when he looked at the Marauders' Map, but he didn't think she'd appreciate being disturbed by him at the moment. He'd have to try to catch her at dinner. But dinner came and went, with Harry staying for the entire time, listening to the Quidditch team talk merrily, ably abetted by the Gryffindor supporters, and all the while no Hermione appeared.

Indeed, the only time Harry saw her that Sunday at all, was when he was the last person in the Gryffindor common room – and he would have been in bed himself, if it weren't for the fact he had a Transfiguration essay to finish. Hermione slipped through the portrait hole, but stopped at the sight of Harry.

"Hi Hermione." Harry said, lifting his head.

"Hello Harry." Was the stiff reply.

Harry sighed, but looked back down to his work. He knew Hermione would continue, and she did.

"You do realise that you could have done serious damage to yourself?" Hermione asked him accusatorially. "That you might have even ended up dying? All for a stupid game that it doesn't really matter whether you won or lost. You could have refused to play, you know? You could have said you weren't fit enough. Ginny suggested that someone else came on and she played Seeker, but you'd told Ron you were fine. You weren't even their only hope."

Harry looked up at her. "I know." He said guiltily.

"Don't tr-" Hermione stopped, obviously having expected him to deny it. She looked at him mistrustfully. "You know?" She repeated.

"I was thinking about it for most of yesterday. Wasn't much else to think about to be honest. I mean, I thought I was fine." He said defensively. "I felt okay, Pomfrey had said I could try duelling again, I didn't think there'd be any problem."

"Since when did you become a qualified Healer?" Hermione asked in something which had obviously meant to be disgust, but seemed to be slightly mollified.

"I know I'm not a Healer, Hermione. But I just felt fine. Yeah, I probably should have listened to Pomfrey, but I didn't, I was wrong, okay?"

"Just after you had told us you wouldn't put yourself in dangerous situations too." Hermione was trying to continue her planned lecture, but Harry could tell that she was losing steam.

"I know. Look, I'm sorry. Although I guess it's my own body I should be apologising to. Why were you in the library all day though?"

He knew the answer of course, but he felt like putting Hermione on the spot – she was in the library because she was feeling annoyed that Ron and Ginny were still celebrating the win, and Harry was already being released from the Hospital Wing.

"I didn't think the three of you would want me around." She shrugged. "And I had a lot of work to do."

"What work? You always have everything done before Sunday night." Harry asked disbelievingly, and secretly feeling rather pleased that he had put Hermione on the back foot.

"Yes, well, I'm doing more subjects than you, aren't I?" Hermione replied obtusely.

Harry hid a grin. But as he looked at Hermione, he sensed that she was hiding something rather bigger than a smile, and was wondering whether to mention it or not.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Nothing." But eventually she seemed to overlook her annoyance towards Harry, and continued. "Well, okay, there is something. I needed a break from my Arithmancy work, so I did something I'd been thinking about for a while now."

"What?"

"Well, you know what you said about Aravenne? About how he was glad Lestrange was dead, and how he knew them from school."

"Yes…" Harry led on, slowly.

"Well, I just thought I'd check up on him, see if he was in school at the same time as them and what year and house and everything. Maybe find out why he hated them so much. So I got out the records, and looked-"

Harry had to stop a small snigger at this, but Hermione caught him.

"What?" She demanded.

"Well, only you could take a break from work, by doing more work." Harry grinned as explanation. Hermione frowned. "Sorry. I'm guessing you found something out."

"Yes." Hermione said, eyes still narrowed. "Or no. I couldn't find anyone with a surname of Aravenne in Hogwarts even fifty years before the Lestranges were in school, or since they left."

"So you mean he lied?" Harry asked. "That he didn't know them from school at all?"

"That's just it, Harry, I don't think he went to Hogwarts at all." Hermione told him.

"But why would he say he did then?"

"I don't know." Hermione mused. "I haven't been able to stop wondering that myself."

"What if he's an impostor?" Harry asked, mind racing. "Like Mad-Eye Moody, you know?"

"Wouldn't be a very good one then, would he? But check on the Marauders Map if you want." Hermione suggested.

"I can't see him being a Death Eater though." Harry said thoughtfully. "You should have seen him when he mentioned the Lestranges. No-one could pretend to hate someone that much."

Nevertheless, Harry dug into his pockets, past the Invisibility Cloak that he had stashed there, and withdrew his father's map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Harry eyes slid across the page, looking for Aravenne's name, passing over the common rooms, Dumbledore's office, the dungeons, in a manner that had grown to be well practiced. There, in his office, not moving, was a dot called Syde Aravenne.

"He's real." Harry said, almost disappointedly.

"What's that, Harry?" Hermione asked, pointing at the parchment.

At the tip of her finger was one of Prongs' love-hearts, complete with Lily Evans' name scrawled in full. Harry swallowed slightly.

"Er... Well you know my dad was one of the people that wrote this, right? Well, he also had a crush on my mum all through school." Harry said, in a falsely natural voice.

"I know that Harry, but it's never happened before." Hermione looked at him shrewdly.

"Well… Um… Okay. Look, in the summer, Remus…"

But to Harry's surprise, Hermione wasn't condemnatory of the map at all. In fact, she demanded to know why he hadn't told any of them about it before now.

"Well. I- I thought you and… Ginny in particular… After Riddle's diary… Well, you know." Harry muttered.

"Oh." Hermione said taken aback. "Oh. Well, yes, I don't know how Ginny would- Ginny! Are you okay?"

Before Harry could ask what Hermione was talking about, a voice came from the stairs behind him.

"It's just Dean. He won't leave me alone. I keep telling him I don't want to talk b-" She suddenly noticed Harry, and stopped talking.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head. "It's nothing."

Harry turned around fully to look at her. She was standing on the stairs in her dressing gown, seemingly having stopped on her way downstairs when she had seen Harry. Harry got the unavoidable feeling that he was in the way, and should leave the two girls to themselves.

"I'm just going up to bed." He said swiftly, "I'm too tired to do this essay now; I'll finish it in my free period tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

"Oh, good night then, Harry." Hermione said, slightly surprised it seemed.

"Yeah, good night." Ginny's voice came from behind him, sounding as if she had continued coming downstairs.

As Harry piled his books into his bag to take upstairs, he caught sight of Ginny's face. She looked awful. Haggard, worn, and tired, hardly seemed strong enough words to describe her appearance. Harry paused on his way past her to the boys' staircase.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" He asked, in concern, for he knew what that felt like.

"A bit." Ginny said, trying to shrug. "Just… bad dreams. That's all."

"You should ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep potion. Doesn't get rid of the dreams for ever, but at least you can get a good night's sleep now and then."

"Maybe." Ginny said without conviction. "But, I don't like the sound of it really."

"All it does is let you get a bit of sleep. Trust me, it helps."

Ginny looked almost a little upset, and Harry couldn't understand why that might be. All he had suggested was she got a decent night's sleep. He shrugged.

"Anyway, I'm off to bed. Night." He turned away.

He had just reached the door to the dormitories, when Ginny called up to him. "Thanks for the suggestion Harry, it's just. I don't… don't want to go to sleep, and not be able to wake up. But… thanks."

Harry went to bed that night trying to figure out what she meant. Wasn't the whole point of sleeping that you weren't awake during the night? And the potion would mean that she wasn't plagued by any bad dreams, so wouldn't want to wake up. It was kind of a win-win situation, surely.

Harry's unexpected apology, along with what she seemed to see as sensitivity she didn't know he had had, was enough to satisfy Hermione, for she treated him normally after their conversation. As did the fact that Ginny was upset, or ill, or just not sleeping (which it was, Harry couldn't say for sure) protect her from Hermione's ire. Ron, however, had no such luck. For one thing, he didn't seem to be willing to say that he had done anything wrong at all. And he hadn't, really, in Harry's eyes; after all, he was the one that had said he was fit to play. But although he told that to Hermione, she didn't seem to agree with him.

In fact, when it came to the DA meeting on Thursday, Hermione seemed to be far more aggressive in her spell work to her partner (Ron) than usual, as if taking out some of her frustrations on him. Ron's confidence looked to be in danger of being crushed by the way his scattering charm failed to disperse Hermione's charm as it should. Harry decided to take drastic action, and made the DA switch partners halfway through, so, he said, that they could get used to different techniques.

It was noticeable to Harry, as he was now resuming the role of teacher, that Neville's wand work seemed to have improved over the summer. He didn't know what could have prompted the change, perhaps it was because he had been involved in the fight at the Department of Mysteries, or maybe it was something else, but although he wasn't up to the standard of many of the DA members, he was by no means the disaster he had once been,

Harry's mind, however, was quickly moving away from school, and work, and even the DA and Snape, for Sirius' inquest was to begin soon, and he found he could think of little else. Even though Dumbledore had told him that there was little for him to worry about, he couldn't help but fret that he would mess it up somehow, or that he would let something slip about the Order – or even that he had tried to perform the Cruciatus curse. Dumbledore didn't know about that, did he?

He arrived, feeling extremely nervous, at Dumbledore's office at twenty to eleven. Dumbledore opened the door in robes of silver, which had the effect of portraying him as a wise, but aging man, which it was often easy to forget he was, despite his energy, and sometimes slightly eccentric appearance.

"Ah, Harry." Dumbledore greeted him. "You are very prompt. Good. We shall be off in a minute or two. Before we do so, however, I feel it only right of me to warn you that Madam Bones has asked Cornelius Fudge to be present as an advisor."

Harry stared at him, in slight alarm. "Why? I thought–"

"Thought that Madam Bones had lost all patience with him at Severus' hearing?" Dumbledore suggested as a reasonable ending to the sentence.

"Yeah, something like that."

"And although I happen to believe you may be right about how Madam Bones views our former Minister, she is quite aware that Rufus Scrimgeour wants to find Sirius innocent, and so decided to call upon the person most willing to find any holes in your story, if any exist. After all, he completely ignored all pleas that Sirius was framed, and that it was in fact Peter Pettigrew who was the wrongdoer. In short, Cornelius Fudge has a lot to lose if the inquest finds Sirius innocent, and so has a great deal to gain if he asks the most pertinent questions to find a hole in your story."

"But you are the only one who can ask me questions, right?" Harry asked nervously.

"I am. And you may rest assured that I shall not allow any invasive questions whatsoever to be asked."

"How?" Harry demanded. "I mean, if I have Veritaserum, you won't be able to stop me answering, will you?"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "No-one shall be allowed to ask you questions but me, Harry. I am afraid Rufus Scrimgeour has asked the explanation to be made when we arrive at the Ministry, but you may trust me, when I say that you shall be all right."

"Rufus Scrimgeour?" Harry asked. "Is the new Minister going to be there?"

"But why?" He continued, as Dumbledore nodded his head. "I didn't think he had anything to do with it?"

"He doesn't – as such. But he has persuaded Madam Bones that it is right that he is present at your testimony as an advisor, seeing as it is a decision that could send shockwaves through the Wizarding World. But I fancy that there may be other reasons he wishes to be present."

"Like what?" Harry demanded.

"Can you not think of any?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

"Is it because of me?" Harry asked slowly, as he watched Dumbledore looking at him through those piercing eyes. "Because of what the Daily Prophet has written about me?"

"The Minister is not a person that believes idle speculation, Harry, but yes, I think it quite probable that he wishes to repair some of the damage done to the Ministry that Fudge caused by his treatment of you. Of course," He continued, "it is up to you whether you decide to accept the apologies likely to come your way."

"Yes sir." Harry replied, wondering exactly whether he would accept an apology or not – he was a different man to Fudge, but then again, it was the same Ministry that he was in charge of.

"But we had better be off, Harry, or we shall be late for the Ministry, and that would not do at all." He gave a wave of his hand towards the fireplace, and it burst into flames. "After you."

Harry walked to the fireplace, took a large amount of floo powder, and threw it into the blazing fire.

"The Ministry of Magic."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dumbledore stepped gracefully out of the fire behind Harry, and took the lead, speaking swiftly, but politely, to the woman with the checklist.

"Good morning. Harry is here to give evidence in the Sirius Black inquiry."

The woman, identified as Nora Newman, seemed rather scared, or perhaps overawed, by the presence of Dumbledore. Or perhaps it was him, Harry thought with a jolt, as she tentatively handed him his badge. And she wasn't the only one – the change in attitude by the witch who took Harry's wand for tagging, Helga Burns, made Harry seriously wonder exactly how much people believed the Daily Prophet's articles about him. That wasn't to say that Helga Burns had decided that he was more of a worthwhile person than she had imagined previously, but rather, this time, she seemed almost frightened of him, or his (supposed) powers.

The only other time Harry had been aware of witches or wizards who were afraid of him, had been when the Hogwarts students had suspected him to be the Heir of Slytherin, and then he had at least had Fred and George nearby to make fun of the situation. But who was going to make light of the fact people now believed him to be immune to the Avada Kedavra curse? And these weren't students that were scared of him, but adults – fully qualified witches and wizards that surely should know better than to believe the Daily Prophet's rumour mongering.

Dumbledore led him through the Department of Law Enforcement to a small room, where Madam Bones and Fudge were already present. The first thing Harry noticed, as he looked around, was a large bluish coloured box surrounding a chair, with another chair half in – half out. It was strange – looking through the box gave the appearance of looking through tinted glass, and yet the cuboid didn't seem to be physical in any respect whatsoever. It didn't take long for Harry to realise that this box had to be magical. Before he had decided what it did however, a cough made him look away towards its owner – Cornelius Fudge.

"Good morning." Madam Bones said curtly, before the former Minister could say a word. "I trust everything is arranged to your satisfaction Albus?"

"I believe it is perfectly adequate Amelia, yes, but possibly the one to be persuaded of that is Harry. Perhaps you could run through the precautions being taken for his benefit?"

"You did not explain, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, bad temperedly.

"Rufus asked me to delay letting Harry know until he could actually see the room. I believe he thought it would be more effective coming from the Ministry." The headmaster said comfortably. "It would, perhaps, be more reassuring."

"Very well." Madam Bones agreed, and Harry wondered if he imagined the slight, knowing smile that played on her lips.

"The blue cubicle you see there prevents all sound from entering, but allows sound to escape. You shall be sitting in the chair that is in the middle, and so unable to hear any question that is asked from outside of the box. Nobody shall be allowed inside apart from you, or Professor Dumbledore. If someone is only partially inside the box, then they are unaffected by any of its magical properties. They can talk to you as normal, and also converse with anyone outside, which is how we shall enforce your request that only Albus Dumbledore can ask you questions.

"Once the hearing is over, Dumbledore shall give you this antidote to the Veritaserum, which, like the Veritaserum itself, has been under my care since its testing, and so has not been tampered with. No-one else will be within ten feet of you, or the box, while you are under its influence."

"And if someone tries to?" Harry asked nervously, but not feeling so timid so as not to ask the question, or give a sidelong glance at Fudge.

"Why, we won't allow them to." Madam Bones said in surprise. "Albus, the Minister, and I will be here, and one of us, or Cornelius will prevent that ever happening."

Harry decided not to mention that it wasn't an outsider that he was worried about, after all, he did trust Dumbledore to stop anything like that happening, and probably Madam Bones too for that matter. It was the rest of the Ministry he wasn't so trusting about.

Fudge scowled, as if he knew who Harry was inferring might try to take advantage of his state. He coughed again, loudly.

"You know, Amelia, I am rather dubious about the whole proceedings. After all-"

"What do you mean, Cornelius?" She replied, in a rather restrained voice.

"Well, I am unsure that the use of Veritaserum will conclusively prove anything in this case."

"Do you still wish to cast aspersions upon Harry's sanity Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked, in a perfectly polite tone.

"Well, there is that of course," Fudge said, as if he hadn't thought of it, "but what I was referring to was the fact that Mr Potter managed to expel Professor Robin Fleming from his mind when he attempted to perform Legilimency on him."

"On your orders." Harry said pointedly.

Fudge went red. "Yes well, that may be, but what I was suggesting is that if he could expel a skilled Legilimens, perhaps he could also prevent the truth serum from fully taking effect."

Dumbledore blinked, as though taken by surprise. Madam Bones seemed to be momentarily lost for words too.

"Do you truly believe Harry to be such a powerful Occlumens?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well from what I have heard recently-" Fudge began, but was cut short by Madam Bones.

"From what you have read in the Daily Prophet you mean?"

Fudge drew himself up in indignation. "You asked me here to bring what I considered to be valid objections to Mr Potter's testimony, Amelia, and I consider this one to be very valid. Mr Potter has some knowledge of Occlumency, that we know. Is it not possible that his knowledge is enough to circumvent the effects of Veritaserum?"

"I thought you believed that Harry's repelling of the attack was down in some way to Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked politely. "Indeed, I believe the records of the trial will show that you succeeded in proving that."

"Yes, well, perhaps we can leave references to that part of the trial behind us. It seemed to have… to have been resolved to most people's satisfaction." Fudge said, looking like he was trying to put on a brave face. "I think we can all agree that the truth is we don't really know why the attack was abortive, so we must allow that he may have knowledge of Occlumency."

_Dumbledore and I know why Fleming's attack didn't work._ Harry thought to himself. _But we can't really explain why, can we? _

"We can take every precaution against that also, Cornelius." Madam Bones said calmly. "There is no reason why we cannot give Mr Potter a sedative of some sort, with his permission of course, which shall lower any resistance to the potion. But I find the likelihood of a teenager knowing enough Occlumency to nullify Veritaserum very slim indeed."

"That would be acceptable, I trust, Harry?" Dumbledore asked immediately.

"Well, you would still make sure no-one else could ask questions sir?"

"I would." He replied, in a calm, reassuring tone.

"I guess." Harry said unwillingly. "If it will help prove Sirius' innocence."

Harry was quite sure Dumbledore would look after him. Quite apart from protecting Harry's privacy, there was also the fact that Harry knew information about the Order of Phoenix which Dumbledore would want to remain secret. While the prospect of losing all control was unnerving, it was necessary, so Harry would do it.

There was a quiet period, where Harry investigated the blue box, finding that it did indeed do what he had been told, and Dumbledore enlarged it, creating a bed to fit inside it, to replace the chair which Harry had been going to sit on. The potion Fudge wanted Harry to take arrived at almost the exact same time the Minister of Magic walked through the door – five minutes after the hearing had been set to start.

Harry had seen Rufus Scrimgeour's picture in the Daily Prophet of course, and he was what Harry expected. A man who looked self assured, and confident, and walked with a lope in his stride, almost like a predator. Despite the fact that his immediate apology included the admission that he had had important business with the new Head of Aurors, he did not show a sign of being ill at ease in any way. Harry wondered how much of that was an act, a man that refused to say Voldemort's name could surely not be as assertive as that when Voldemort was at large!

"Ah! Mr Harry Potter. Delighted to make your acquaintance." Scrimgeour said, as soon as possible after he had entered the room. "We had better progress with the interview I suppose, seeing as that is the reason I am here, but perhaps we can say a few more words to each other if there is time at its conclusion?"

"Yeah, I guess." Harry said uncomfortably – perhaps more at the fact that Scrimgeour did not glance at his scar once, than the words he had said.

It was rather odd, but Harry now tended to notice it when people didn't look at the lightning bolt on his forehead. It was, after all, a far rarer occurrence, even among people he had already met.

It did not take long for Harry to sit on the bed, and then swing his legs up onto the mattress, feeling rather embarrassed for some reason. Almost as soon as he took the proffered potion from Dumbledore, all uncomfortable thoughts fled, for he slumped backwards, unable to take the weight of his body in a sitting position, unable, in fact, to do anything except look at the ceiling. He felt his mouth being opened gently by a pair of firm hands, and three drops of liquid touch, and then dissolve on, his tongue.

Harry felt most peculiar. He didn't feel overly tired, but his limbs felt as though they were made of granite, and his mind was feeling rather reluctant to work. He didn't know how long he stared at the ceiling, but it didn't seem long at all before he heard a voice say something. His own mouth moved on its own accord, and he heard a voice reply in time to its movement.

"Yes."

The voice didn't sound like him at all – it was almost as if he was listening to a recording. He heard the words to the next question, as well as its speaker, only by concentrating hard. It was Dumbledore.

"When did you start to learn Occlumency?"

As Harry stared at the ceiling, he could almost see into his Occlumency Sanctuary, it was projected on top of the white paint, but not very clearly. There was a bright yellow light that seemed to be zooming around it. A pause followed, before Harry's mouth opened once more.

"This January, the eleventh, at five in the afternoon."

"Are you satisfied?" Harry heard Dumbledore ask, and his mouth immediately opened once more.

"About what?"

"Not you, Harry." Dumbledore's voice said.

"Harry, when did you first see Sirius?"

Harry felt his mouth open once more.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Most of the questions and answers faded away in Harry's memory, so what he was asked exactly, he couldn't remember. He was questioned about his first meeting with Sirius, whether he had seen him before, what had happened; about whether he had seen Sirius in fourth year, what role Sirius had played in his life; and finally about last year, and how often they had seen each other, how they had interacted, until they reached the question of how Sirius had died. Harry wasn't sure about his answers – the only thing he was certain about, was that he hadn't let anything slip he shouldn't have. Dumbledore was too good a questioner for that.

He felt himself swallow some sort of liquid, and then another, and the image of his Sanctuary was gone. He sat up gradually, still feeling leaden, but able to think and move once more.

"How are you Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fine. Just a bit tired." Harry replied automatically, and then stopped. "I have had the antidote to the Veritaserum, right?"

"What colour are your socks?" Dumbledore asked promptly.

Harry's only answer was a grin. He swung his legs back down on to the floor, and tried to stand up, but couldn't. He was still a bit disorientated. When he had recollected himself enough to look around, he noticed that Fudge was no longer in the room. Dumbledore noticed his glance at the empty chair.

"Cornelius left immediately the interview finished. He did not attempt to circumvent the precautions, do not fear."

As soon as Harry left the blue box, Madam Bones strode forward to shake his hand.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. It must have taken courage to not only take Veritaserum, but also allow yourself to be sedated like that. Your evidence is very much appreciated."

"So Sirius is…" Harry began, hopefully, but Madam Bones shook her head.

"You will know in a fortnight's time. I must go over all of the facts in the case first –whether there was a miscarriage of justice or not the first time, I must make sure there isn't now."

Madam Bones left soon after, but the Minister who had been so busy that he had been slightly late initially, hung on. Scrimgeour addressed himself to Dumbledore.

"I wonder, Albus, if you would mind allowing Mr Potter and I to have a couple of private words for a minute or two?"

"Certainly. I'll wait over there shall I? It seems a shame to waste such a marvellous charm."

Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring smile, and walked over to the charmed area Harry had been interviewed in. Vanishing the bed, he levitated the armchair that was only partially in the box to the centre, and sat down facing Harry and the Minister of Magic, studying his hands serenely. It took a couple of seconds for Harry to remember that Dumbledore had been initially supposed to sit on a normal straight backed chair, his mind was still working slightly slowly.

"Well, first of all, I would like to add my congratulations to Madam Bones. As she said, that took guts."

"Thank you sir." Harry said, knowing that that couldn't be all he wanted to say.

"I might add that it was rather convincing evidence also." Scrimgeour continued. "If I were you I'd be rather hopeful as to the outcome of the trial. You have persuaded me."

"But it was only the things I have been saying all along about Sirius." Harry said suspiciously. "If it's that's believable, why didn't you believe me before?"

Scrimgeour slightly inclined his head, as if conceding a point. "And, I am sure you might add, why didn't I believe you when you explained about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return? You perhaps suppose that I have some ulterior motive for saying I believe you now?"

There. Scrimgeour had come right out and said what Harry was thinking, even if he wouldn't have said it quite like that. Was this some kind of trick to make him trust a man who was being so open with him?

"Why didn't you, then?" Harry challenged, boldly.

"You must understand, Mr Potter, that I was a Ministry employee, and Cornelius Fudge, at that time, was my 'boss', as they say. A word from him, and I would have lost my job."

That didn't go down particularly well with Harry. He did what was easy rather than what was right? But Scrimgeour was continuing.

"Then there was also the fact that I received all of my information through the then Minister Fudge, and had to try to piece the truth together from the Daily Prophet. I might add that I have little respect for any paper's reporting prowess, but The Quibbler at that time had the least. For most of the time you and the previous Minister were at conflict, the things I heard supported the Ministry. I was wrong, and I apologise."

"But you could have done something even if Fudge was your boss." Harry said, trying not to sound angry.

"I could have." Scrimgeour allowed. "But first I would have had to believe your version of the events, and the things I was being told had me doubting them. The fact I was a Ministry employee may have clouded my perceptions, and for that I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do now except strive to find the justice in these reports now that I am Minister. For example, in the reopening of the case against your Godfather."

Harry looked at him mistrustfully. After everything he had been put through, he didn't feel that sorry was quite good enough somehow. And here the Minister seemed to be playing up to the fact that he wanted Sirius to be cleared. But the Minister was looking at him shrewdly, and continued to speak.

"I do not wish this enmity between you and the Ministry as a whole to continue, but there have been enough lies and cover-ups in the last few years coming from the Minister of Magic. I have told you why I did what I did, and I apologise for it, but you shall have to decide whether it is enough for you. I hope you are willing to judge me as a Minister by my actions rather than my predecessor's."

Harry still wasn't convinced, although he was glad to hear the Minister's views on cover-ups – if indeed that was his view. He decided not to give a straight answer, both because he wasn't sure, and to see if it might provoke the Minister into a reply which might tell more about his sincerity.

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to think about it. The Ministry made my life hell last year, what with Umbridge and the Daily Prophet." He said, looking Rufus Scrimgeour in the eye.

Scrimgeour seemed to be pleased, maybe even relieved by this answer. "Thank you, I did not expect you to trust me straight away. There is one more thing before I go however."

"What is it?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"I would have rather waited until you had decided whether to trust me or not, but it should be done in person. Assuming your Godfather is cleared, I wish to announce it publicly, and, unless you think he would rather I didn't, offer him a posthumous Order of Merlin, first class."

"I don't know. He was punished, and then on the run for a long time for a crime he didn't commit." Harry told him. "I don't know if he'd want an award from the Ministry."

"It is meant as an apology to him, for what the Ministry did. It does not have to be anything more; although it sounds like he deserves it from your testimony, for continuing to fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named despite everything." The Minister said, and he and Harry scrutinised each other's faces. "Think about it, anyway. And when you do, perhaps you might also think about whether you would be willing to be the one to accept the award for him."

"Why me?" Harry demanded, pretty sure he knew already.

"You were his Godson, and he has no close relations we know of alive."

"And?"

"And I think you know." The Minister offered a smile, and although his eyes did not twinkle, they did brighten up somewhat. "With your current image in the public eye, after the things you have done, and the way the Daily Prophet have reported it, a show of unity between you and the Ministry would do wonders for the support for the Ministry, and for unity in Wizarding Britain. That is not to take anything away from Sirius Black of course, for if innocent, his case will let Britain see that we intend to carry justice through."

Again Scrimgeour had admitted it. He did not hide it behind false words, a show of friends between Harry and the Ministry would help him politically. Harry already knew it, but it was rather reassuring that it had been admitted openly, in a strange sort of way. He had even admitted that Sirius' innocence would be a political success.

"I'll think about it." Harry promised.

"Excellent!" Scrimgeour said jovially.

When Harry and Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, Harry did not leave Dumbledore's office immediately. He had a rather pressing question to ask.

"What do you think of Minister Scrimgeour?"

"You wish guidance as to how you should take your conversation with him?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded.

"I believe he is a man of principles, which is probably one of the reasons he was elected. You may rest assured that he isn't a supporter of Tom Riddle. Despite not having had a great deal of political experience, he is a shrewd customer, hard to fool, and a good judge of character. I am sure that he will have used these skills to pre-decide the best way to approach any requests to you he might make. You can always expect him to face problems head on, and not attempt to hide them, but he is not afraid to use subterfuge if necessary."

"Is he good at what he does? Can I trust him?" Harry pressed.

"That, alas, can probably only be answered by time."

And so Harry was left to wonder about whether he should trust Rufus Scrimgeour and the Ministry on his own. Assuming Sirius was found not guilty, should he publicly accept the Ministry's apology to Sirius, so the whole world knew for certain he was no Death Eater, even if it suggested he was giving the Ministry support? It was a question that he dwelt on for most of the day, and almost all of the next.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"And in arena two will be Potter, Granger, and Longbottom, against Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson." Aravenne's voice boomed out. "You will have one minute after entering the arena to prepare."

Harry, Hermione, and Neville made their way down to the arena, which today represented a hilly landscape at night, complete with trees, boulders, and even a stream or two. There was a cave immediately beside them which seemed to disappear into the darkness. They didn't shelter inside it – nobody fancied the cold, moist, pitch black of the cave. The stars outside gave some kind of illumination at least.

"So what do you think we should do, Harry?" Neville asked immediately – he seemed to have elected Harry as the leader of the trio.

"We have to stay close together." Harry said immediately. "If we don't know where each other is, they'll just find us and pick us off one by one. We know they're going to be in that direction somewhere, so let's follow this ridge. That alright with you Hermione?"

She nodded. "And remember to keep looking below us as well, or we might miss them."

An owl hooted above them, making them jump. Neville gave a bit of a frightened yelp.

"This is almost too realistic." Harry muttered. "I wonder if we'll see badgers on the ground or something?"

A buzzer rang out above them, reminding them that the scene wasn't in fact real, and that they had a duel to win.

"Come on," Harry hissed, "and keep quiet."

The three of them stole forward, pushed in as far as possible towards the rock face at the top of the slope. A rustling sound made them stop almost immediately. Some kind of rodent darted out from a bush in front of them.

"This is really creepy." Neville murmured behind Harry, and Harry privately agreed.

There was no way that he wanted to lose this duel. Particularly not to Malfoy. It was his first duel back since the attack in Hogsmeade, and he was not just feeling nervous because of the surrounds. If he lost to fellow students after defeating, after _killing_, Rodolphus Lestrange… There was extra pressure on him this duel – both from his own expectations, and other people's. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, but as of yet he was feeling no ill effects from the Pulmelido curse.

"Come on." His whispered softly, and led the way once more.

Creeping from bush, to boulder, to tree, jumping the stream that gushed out of the cliff face, they moved on at a snail's pace. The further they went, the more Harry started to imagine things. A shuffle of some sort below them; whispering in front; even footfalls to his right, inside the rock itself. A howl sounded from far off in the distance, making Harry's hairs stand on end.

Harry held up his hand to make the others stop. He had not imagined that sound, there had definitely been the rustling of leaves from just below, and in front of them. Harry descended to a handy rock, and peered over the top. Neville followed him, but Hermione hid behind a nearby bush instead. The howl sounded again, and then a shadow crept out from behind a bush, barely visible in the starlight. Harry sent a stunner towards it, but missed. The light from the curse showed a fox scampering away as it passed.

"Do you think we missed them?" Neville asked in a rather loud whisper.

"Sh." Harry told him, and scrambled down to another boulder, in case his curse had been seen by the Slytherins.

Hermione and Neville joined him.

"I think we should keep going." Hermione said softly. "I'm pretty sure that no-one went past us down the slope, I've been looking there all the time."

Harry nodded. "Okay. And remember," He said, looking at Neville, "keep quiet."

The further they went, the more anxious Harry became, and he continuously looked behind him to see if Hermione and Neville were alright. They were looking extremely tense also, and were creeping along as if this was far more than just a mock duel in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The problem was, it was impossible to think about it as a mock duel, when all five senses were telling you that it was real.

Harry turned at the sound of falling rubble behind him, worried that Hermione or Neville might have slipped, because they were now navigating a rather gritty patch, but neither of them were in any difficulty. He stared behind them. Could Malfoy and the other two have got behind them somehow? Surely not. But just as he was about to resume walking again, wondering just how much further the landscape extended, he saw movement, and the definite outline of a girl's head.

"They're behind us!" Harry yelled, all thoughts of staying quiet forgotten.

A curse shot across to meet them, and Harry gave Neville a push down the slope, before diving out of the way himself. Hermione – thank Merlin – had already taken evasive action. The curse hit the rock wall, and disappeared. Another one flew at the same spot, but exploded upon contact, showering the three Gryffindors with pieces of rock.

"Incendio!" Harry yelled, aiming his wand towards the area the Slytherins had fired from.

A bush ignited, illuminating the face of Pansy Parkinson, who Hermione aimed a spell at but missed. Neville was trying to hobble behind cover, and ended up diving behind a rock.

"Falxiardor!" Draco Malfoy's voice drawled out from below them.

A swipe of fire struck Neville face first, and he lay still – 'dead' – before vanishing.

"The Mudblood's next, Potter, then you." Malfoy shouted out joyfully.

Harry aimed an explosive hex towards Malfoy's voice, and was rewarded by the sound of breath being knocked out of the fair haired Slytherin. Harry set fire to the area Malfoy had been in too, hoping to catch him in the blaze. Speaking of which, Blaise Zabini's voice rang out clearly in the air.

"Rejicia Maxima!"

Harry peered over the rock he was hiding behind, and ducked quickly. It seemed the rock was the target however, not Harry, for it shuddered ominously. When the spell was repeated, Harry pointed his own wand over the boulder, and cast one of his own.

"Effringo!"

The two jets of light met, and broke into tiny beams, before dispersing completely. Harry had already cast his next spell before the curses had disappeared however, and it was directed towards the face of Pansy Parkinson, which was standing out clearly in the firelight.

"_Densaugeo!_" He thought, concentrating hard.

The minor jinx flew through the air far more quickly than the more dangerous curses they had been throwing around earlier, and it hit Pansy Parkinson before she had had a chance to move. Harry just had time to see the Slytherin girl feel her lengthening teeth with fear, before he had to duck another curse from Zabini. When he next peered over, she was lying on the ground, teeth still lengthening. Hermione had hit her with a stunner.

Harry's rock shuddered once more, and he thought he might have heard a cracking sound, as it started to split. He and Hermione were out numbered, and out manoeuvred. They needed to retreat. He looked over the rock once more, and cast the Reductor curse towards Pansy Parkinson's prone body, before retreating towards a rock behind the one where he was currently sheltering. A resounding wooden crack split the air. Harry had missed Pansy, but hit the tree behind, which thundered down on top of the Slytherin's legs. One of the Slytherin boys sent a curse in reply, which caused Harry to fly off his feet, and crunch into the cliff wall. He slumped onto his bottom, not feeling pain, but also not feeling one of his legs.

As luck would have it, the part of rock he had hit was hidden by a gorse bush from the battle below, and so, using his hands, he managed to force his leg in front of him to be examined in safety. It looked most realistically broken. Harry had never quite got the hang of mending broken bones, but there was nothing to lose, so he waved his wand over the affected area. Nothing happened.

There was no sound of fighting now, just the crackle and hiss of wood and grass on fire. Harry wondered if Hermione had been subdued too. Maybe he was the only one of the Gryffindors left to face both Malfoy and Zabini. Just as he was thinking that, however, still trying to mend his broken leg, Hermione's face appeared, rather red, and grubby, but still a most welcome sight!

"Here, let me do that." She whispered, taking in Harry's predicament. "You keep a look out for the Slytherins."

Harry nodded, and soon a soothing feeling went through his leg – taking Harry by surprise somewhat, considering the leg hadn't even hurt, it had just been… useless. Harry pushed himself into a crouching position. The leg still felt a little sluggish, but otherwise was reacting fine.

"Thanks." Harry muttered. "Did they heal Parkinson?"

"Malfoy was trying to – that's how I got away. Can you walk?"

Harry nodded. "Let's retreat a bit."

Harry and Hermione practically crawled their way backwards for the next thirty yards. As they did so, Harry was beginning to work out a plan. He crouched behind a large tree trunk to let Hermione know what he was thinking.

"I'll cut down below, to attract their attention, and then retreat. Then you can cast spells on them from up here when they aren't expecting it. Actually – don't cast spells to begin with – banish pieces of rock or something at them, they won't see them coming."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, nervously. "They'll both be going after you then."

"I'll be fine." Harry nodded. "Anyway, that's the idea. Malfoy will want to try to kill me anyway, and Zabini said he wanted a rematch. They'll both go after me. If we can take one of them out, we can gang up on the one that's left."

He got to his feet, and, crouching, limped off downhill. He knew he was making a lot of noise, but he didn't care, that was the plan. He reached a sort of clearing, which gave him an unimpeded view to the battle scene. He could just about make out the tree trunk he had felled by the firelight. Well, he wanted them to see where he was, didn't he? Maybe he should make it obvious.

Harry aimed carefully. "Incendio!"

The curse flew through the air, its fiery colour illuminating the night it flew through, before the felled trunk burst into flames. Harry watched it settle for a few moments, as if something below it had just been removed. That got rid of Pansy Parkinson from this duel! Harry glanced up the slope to where Hermione was hiding, waiting for Malfoy or Zabini to show their heads. As he did so, he also caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

There was a figure creeping out of a cave at the top of the hill. But it was not the side of Hermione that the Slytherins had been, but rather the other, the side that they had been moving towards. The Slytherins had somehow got behind them again – but how? He faced up the slope this time, and pointed his wand at the cave.

"Solas!" He cried.

The spell shot through the air, hitting the rock face just above the cave, and suddenly illuminating the area, before the light faded away again. Harry distinctly saw the head of Draco Malfoy, before he ducked out of the way of the light, and crept along the cliff face – in the direction that would take him to Hermione.

Harry started firing spells at the cliff face, hoping to hit Malfoy with the debris, or maybe stop him from continuing along the top, but to attack him instead. A loud snap – the sound of foot upon twigs – came from Harry's right, reminding him that Zabini was still around also. Harry stopped casting spells, and glanced around. A flash of yellow light sped towards him, barely giving Harry time to duck, and get behind a tree trunk. There was the sound of flying objects, and grunts, as they hit their mark, and Harry slipped into the open again, to see if he could finish off Zabini.

Blaise Zabini, however, although on one knee, was ready for him.

"Farcio!"

Harry flew backwards through the air, a couple of feet off the ground. He fell onto his back, barely keeping hold of his wand, and rolled sideways, avoiding the second curse that was coming his way. He cast his own spell at Zabini – a tickling jinx – which caused Zabini's next spell to miss violently. The Slytherin disappeared behind a bush, in order to remove the jinx in safety.

"Reducto!" Harry yelled, trying to destroy the bush, and his foe's cover.

Unfortunately, the curse didn't do much good against the gorse, and Harry belatedly remembered how the Reductor curse had failed to help him through the hedges in the Tri-Wizard maze. He glanced up towards Hermione, to see her duelling with Malfoy. She seemed to be on the defensive, penned in rather, and unable to launch a counter attack.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry thought desperately, and aimed his wand at Malfoy's back.

No sooner had he done so, however, then Zabini's voice rang out. "Malfoy – look out!"

Malfoy stepped to his side to avoid the curse, smirked at Harry as if he wanted to tell him to watch carefully, and aimed his wand at Hermione.

Harry didn't need the loud gong to sound to tell him what the spell Malfoy had cast was. Even though Malfoy hadn't verbalised it, he recognised the wand movement, the flourish, and the colour of the curse that came out of his wand. It was the Avada Kedavra curse. For a split second, Harry did what he had been threatening to do all duel – and forgot that this wasn't real, and no-one could truly be harmed. All he could think about was that Malfoy had tried to kill Hermione. No sooner had the green curse hit Hermione, and she had fallen to one knee, then another curse zoomed towards Malfoy at a ridiculous speed, and he was picked up, and flung across the countryside.

As Malfoy flew through the air, the scenery changed. No longer was it night, and no longer were they outside. Instead, they were back into that disused classroom which Aravenne had made into four duelling arenas, and Malfoy was flying over the ropes that bounded them in, and crashing against one of the four walls, hitting it high in the air, before slumping down to the ground unconscious.

"Quiet!" Aravenne's voice said sharply, silencing the excited mutterings.

There was electricity in the air, and although Harry was still fuming, everything starting to come flooding back to him, he sensed that he was only half responsible for it. Aravenne's face still looked the model of composure, but it was somehow darker than before, the face of somebody to be afraid of. He strode over to Draco Malfoy, and revived him.

Aravenne's voice was calm, but hard. "I made the rules of these duelling sessions perfectly clear when we began, Mr Malfoy, did I not?"

Malfoy didn't answer. Instead he put his arm to his shoulder, where a red stain was even now working its way through his robes.

"He attacked me! Potter-"

"I will repeat the question in case you did not understand that either. When I began these duelling sessions I informed you all that, among other things, the Unforgivables remained unforgivable, and that I would quite willingly see to all those who used them. Is that not so?"

Malfoy glared at him, but didn't say a word.

"Detention, then Mr Malfoy. Today _and_ tomorrow at seven. We shall see if you decide to ignore my warnings after that. Indeed, you are fortunate that you were unable to cast the spell correctly, or else your punishment would be far worse."

"I have Quidditch practice-" Malfoy began mulishly.

"Which you shall have to miss." Aravenne finished coldly. "For every word in argument you utter from now on, I shall be deducting five points from Slytherin."

Malfoy looked sulky. "Fine" He felt his bleeding shoulder once more. "May I go to the Hospital Wing, sir?"

Aravenne glanced at it. "It is hardly life threatening. You shall stay here, and watch the rest of the class continue to duel. Perhaps you will pick up a thing or two about maturity and responsibility."

Malfoy slouched off to the stands, but not even his posse of Slytherins paid him much attention. Everyone was staring at the Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. He had always seemed a Professor not to be crossed, and now he had proved it. Who would have thought that somebody who was so at ease with his students, who was firm but friendly towards them, could transform into somebody who was as ruthless as Snape could be at enforcing discipline?

"Mr Potter," Aravenne continued, as Malfoy sat, "I believe I also made it clear that only Abramites were to be used, and not your normal wand. Because one person broke the rules is hardly an excuse for you to also. Come here please."

Harry walked, rather nervously, towards the teacher. He hadn't used his wand! It had just happened. But he had a feeling that now wasn't a good time to argue – even though the electricity flying around the room seemed to have lessened somewhat.

Aravenne spoke in a quieter voice to Harry, which nonetheless carried across the room. "You will also have no further part to play in this duelling session."

Well, that was alright, Harry thought quickly, he wasn't allowed to duel more than once thanks to Madam Pomfrey anyway. Aravenne must have forgotten in the excitement.

"And I will expect you outside my office no later than half nine this evening, is that clear?"

Harry nodded. His sessions with Professor Dumbledore had now been pushed back to Wednesdays, so there was no conflict there. In fact, Dumbledore was finding it rather difficult to fit him in at all, Harry felt. There was so much that he had to do. There was a Gryffindor Quidditch session at some point tonight, but Harry knew that he wouldn't be allowed near a broom until after Christmas at least. So a detention with Aravenne was to fill up the empty spot in his calendar.

Harry walked to take his place beside Hermione wordlessly. The Gryffindors around her were watching Harry approach silently, and with admiration at the way he had thrown Malfoy about. It wasn't just Gryffindors either, the Ravenclaws too, and the Hufflepuffs were looking at him with something approaching awe. The Slytherins were too busy looking at Draco Malfoy but he could have sworn he saw Blaise Zabini turn around and look at him with what looked like respect emanating from his narrowed eyes. They made eye contact just for a second, before Zabini turned back to Malfoy, and started a vicious verbal assault for the way he had disqualified them from the duel.

"You shouldn't have done that Harry." Hermione began, and Harry turned his head towards her as he slipped into his seat. "But thank you."

Harry gave a small smile, but found he couldn't say anything. His mouth was too dry – and he felt more than a little shaken and drained. Emotions boiled up inside him, and whirled around. That was what he had been afraid of: one of his friends dying. That was the thing Voldemort was likely to do, and that was probably what he had ordered his Death Eaters to do as well. He would try to save Harry for himself, to prove that Harry wasn't able to defeat him, but Harry's friends, they would be considered fair game.

Did Malfoy know that that was what Voldemort wanted to happen? Even if his father was in Azkaban, he would surely know from some of his father's slimy friends. Or even from Crabbe or Goyle's fathers – they weren't in Azkaban. Nor was Malfoy's mother. Could Malfoy have even become a Death Eater himself? But no – Harry scolded himself – he was letting his imagination run away with him there.

Draco Malfoy turned around in his seat, to stare at Harry. His mouth curled into a sneer, just as it had before he had tried to cast the Avada Kedavra curse at Hermione. Harry had no doubt what Malfoy was trying to tell him. He was trying to tell Harry he would like nothing better than to kill him or his friends. Harry was forcibly reminded of the words Malfoy had said to him at the end of his last school year, and he decided he did not want to find out how strong that resolution was – his enmity with Malfoy had suddenly moved far further than a simple schoolboy rivalry.

The students wanted to talk to Harry, to show their admiration, all through the lesson – when they weren't duelling – but Harry had no wish to do anything other than remain silent. The only people he paid much attention to were Ron and Hermione, and even to them he said very little.

"Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson went through that passageway." Ron said, as they watched the next duel on arena two. "You see, the one that goes between those two big caves. You each started outside them. They came right up behind you, and after Neville and Parkinson were out of it, Malfoy went back through it."

"So that's how they did it." Harry said in realisation.

He looked at the other arenas. They took some time to get used to – like the magically enhanced cars Harry had been in, they seemed to have far more space on the inside than out. When a person entered the arena they seemed to be squashed somehow in order to take less space, so it felt like they were a far larger distance away than they actually were. As far as Harry could see, arena two was the only one with a passage between two caves.

"The one we were on had a kind of mountain pass in." Ron said, pointing to arena four. "Lavender, Parvati and I managed to surround them with it." He sounded rather proud, as if it had been his idea. "But it was daylight for us, of course."

Harry grinned, but didn't feel up to making a reply.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked in concern.

Harry made a gesture with his head that was half way between a nod and a shake, and gave a shrug along with it. He quite honestly had no idea.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Potions that day was a nightmare once more. It was as if he had done something to personally insult Snape, for gone was the uneasy truce that Dumbledore seemed to have forced upon them. They had moved on from antidotes to poisons, and were now brewing the poisons themselves – according to the textbook so that they could learn about the way poisons work, and thus find it easier to create antidotes. Judging by the veiled threats Snape was sending towards Harry, he couldn't help wondering if Snape had an ulterior motive. Like testing them on Harry, for example.

Malfoy spent the class trying to double Harry's torment, laughing at Snape's insults and bullying, and always attempting to goad Harry into something that could allow Snape to continue. All that Harry's Occlumency was able to do today, was to prevent him from grabbing the contents of Hermione's cauldron and shoving it down _Snape's_ throat. Malfoy stayed behind after class, obviously attempting to persuade Snape to alter Aravenne's punishment, hoping his continual sucking up might help.

Even Herbology, after the Potions lesson, proved to be a minor disaster for Harry, for he could not focus, and succeeded in decimating the delicate _vitria vine_ he was supposed to be planting. He got a loud dressing down from Madam Sprout as the shards of the plants flew across the bed, and succeeded in losing Gryffindor fifteen points.

Try as he might, he seemed unable to prevent himself thinking about the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. It was a miracle he had been able to push it to the back of his mind in Potions, but once he was away from Snape's eyes, it was a different matter. If he wasn't thinking about Malfoy's attempt to use the Avada Kedavra curse, he was thinking about Aravenne, and the fact that he was going to have a detention with a man who Harry had not only always been suspicious about, but who had told a blatant lie about his past.

And yet Harry was still absolutely certain that Aravenne hated the Lestranges, which had to be a point in his favour. He also seemed to have no qualms about meting out punishment towards Malfoy, which was a second one. And then of course there were his teaching methods – attacking the students, claiming that there was no dark magic, teaching them dangerous spells such as Falxia (which Harry was almost shocked to realise he now used himself without much hesitation), and encouraging them to go for the kill if they should face Dark Wizards. And there was that lie about attending Hogwarts. That silly falsehood which Hermione had so easily discovered, and yet which none of them could understand.

Ron seemed to trust him, more than that, to like him. He didn't seem to have any of Harry's concerns about his teaching methods, and went into each class eagerly, relishing the duels, whatever their outcome. The only worry he seemed to have, was about Aravenne's assertion that there was no dark magic, and that didn't seem to affect him much.

Hermione, on the other hand, found that claim the most compelling of the things Aravenne had taught. Despite her initial scepticism, she had gone through his argument with a fine tooth comb, and now agreed with him. Indeed, she seemed to admire him for wanting to think outside the conventional wisdom, and challenge traditional ideas. The thing that was worrying her, like Harry, was his claim to have been a Hogwarts student. In fact, she offered to follow Harry that evening in Harry's Invisibility Cloak because of it. Harry however didn't want to have the cloak out of his possession anymore, ever since the Hogsmeade attack.

As for Ginny – she hadn't experienced many of the things the others had, but she was a great fan of Aravenne's. For one thing, she said, he seemed to be teaching them the entire syllabus for fourth year, as well as fifth, to make up for the knowledge Umbridge hadn't imparted. For another, she told them that the way he taught them new spells reminded her a bit of the DA, which left Harry feeling very surprised, and rather complimented, for the one thing he did not doubt about Aravenne was his teaching ability.

As Harry approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office that night, the door opened with a slight bang, and out of it swayed Malfoy. The Slytherin didn't seem to spot Harry at all, but rather walked the other way down the corridor, stumbling slightly now and then, as if he were drunk tired, and was using what little strength he had left to get away from Aravenne as quickly as he could. The grin of satisfaction Harry would normally have had at seeing Malfoy in such a state was tempered only by the thought that he would perhaps be the next to receive some drastic kind of punishment.

He glanced at his watch. He was still a little early, but rather than delaying another few minutes, Harry decided it would be better to get it over with, and so, nervously approached the door, to knock hesitantly.

"Come in." A voice called from inside the room, and Harry pushed the door open gently.

The room was sparsely decorated, with black as the predominant colour. Two large bookshelves were beside a large, leather covered, mahogany desk, with two matching cushioned leather chairs either side of it. The floor was mahogany – like every piece of wood in the room, it seemed – and had two rugs placed down upon it. One of them looked like it might have been a large brown bear's, and the other was a dazzling gold colour, which Harry gazed at, transfixed.

"That's a Re'em hide." Aravenne told Harry, watching his gaze. "I was given one by a wise man I met in Japan. I performed a few tasks for him in return for his skills, but it turned out he was only able to partially help me, so he gave me his most valuable possession instead. It was a matter of honour for him that he gave me something to make up for not fulfilling his promise. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, turning to look at Aravenne. He was standing at a table, packing what looked like the Abramites into their box.

"Please, sit down." Aravenne said, pointing to the leather chair nearest to Harry.

Harry took his seat cautiously, completing his inspection of the room. Apart from a couple more chairs near the desk Aravenne was working at, the only other things there, were five rather sturdy looking chests. They were engraved quite beautifully, with pictures of such wild beasts as lions, leopards, elephants, giraffes, and some other animals that Harry did not recognise immediately.

"That is where I keep the arenas you duel in on Tuesdays." Aravenne smiled, following Harry's gaze once more.

"You keep them in chests…" Harry began, not completely understanding what Aravenne meant.

"Yes, I am rather proud of them, I must admit; they have taken me many years to create, and these chests have been with me for many a year now. They are African, you see. You are still yet to see some of my favourites." Aravenne said, with a satisfied look in his eyes. "Although, of course, today you were duelling in one of them."

Harry looked at him cautiously. He had been surprised by the friendliness in Aravenne's tone and words when he had entered the room, but now they had got to the reason that Harry was here for a detention. He wondered whether he should attempt to explain what had happened or not.

"And that of course, leads us to why you are here." Aravenne continued, as though he were reading his thoughts. "Draco Malfoy tried to use the Avada Kedavra curse in your duel, and you replied by sending him through the air at such speed that he hit the wall and fell unconscious."

"Professor, I-" Harry begun, but Aravenne held up his hand.

"I am aware that you did not use your wand, which is what I imagine you were about to say. No, what you did was wandless magic: _wordless_ wandless magic. That is why I asked you here tonight."

"But why did you tell everyone that I used my wand then?" Harry asked in astonishment.

Aravenne looked at him appraisingly, and half leant, half sat on the table behind him.

"Do you remember when I first introduced Magi to your class, I also mentioned Virgaemin, and Virgaemin Magi?"

"Yes." Harry replied at once. "Virgaemin can duel without a wand, and Virgaemin Magi can duel without speaking either."

"Exactly. Now, having taught you for a good few weeks, I had the impression that you would not have wished me to tell the class that you had just, effectively, done something only a handful of people could have done. Cast a very powerful spell, without use of your wand, or your voice. Perhaps I was wrong?"

"No!" Harry said immediately, rather loudly in his haste. "But I didn-"

Aravenne nodded. "There is another way that wizards cast a spell like that. You must remember that magic is a part of us. Before we learned to control it, it was chaotic, unrefined, controlled only by our natural instincts, triggered by our emotions. That is why young children often perform wandless magic before they go to school, and why it is rarely seen after they begin to control their gifts. To an observer such as myself, it appears possible, in fact, most likely, that Mr Malfoy's attack on your friend Miss Granger, caused you to momentarily lose control, and to allow your emotions to take over."

"So you knew I didn't mean it? Then why did you give me detention?" Harry demanded.

"Did I say anything about detention?" Aravenne replied calmly. "I told you, you couldn't duel again that class, and to be here tonight. Did you think I had forgotten Madam Pomfrey's orders to me? Listen, if I had told the class that you had used wandless magic, I would be telling them that either you were one of the most powerful wizards in Britain, or else, that you were unable to control your emotions. I did not think either option would be fair to you."

"Then… why did you tell me to come here?"

"I wanted to offer to help you learn the basics of wandless magic."

Harry looked at him in scepticism. "Why?"

"Why?" Aravenne echoed, in surprise.

"Yes, why would you offer to teach me how to become a Virgaemin? And why do you think I could learn to be one. You said yourself, it wasn't powerful magic I did, it was because I wasn't strong enough to control my emotions."

"Strong enough to control your emotions?" Aravenne repeated in astonishment. "Mr Potter, Harry, your emotions have nothing to do with it. The magic you did was powerful, that has nothing to do with emotions. I will not promise to turn you into a Virgaemin, that is exceptionally difficult for anyone to master, but whether or not you can become one, you certainly can learn how to cast basic spells without your wand, and even without your voice! As for controlling your emotions, learning how to cast wandless magic will help you control when you use it, even with your passions running high.

"And why would I want to do it? Why, as a teacher, to be able to instruct a student in such a difficult branch of magical studies, to perhaps even help him do something that very few people in the world can do. That is a teacher's dream!"

Aravenne was speaking with a verve and excitement that Harry had rarely seen. He seemed to be run away with the idea of teaching Harry this additional skill.

"What if I don't think I can do it?" Harry asked. "I have hardly any time already."

Aravenne's face didn't so much fall, as collect itself again, into what Harry was starting to think of the mask of calm that he wore in classes, and he controlled his voice similarly, so that when he next spoke it was once more the voice of the teacher in control.

"Yes, I am aware that you are running a defensive society, the DA do you call it? And then you will have Quidditch practice when you are fit and well again, along with your other classes, but you must understand, Mr Potter, that few people have the opportunity to learn how to use wandless magic so young. For that matter, few people have the opportunity to be taught at all, most have to learn through books rather than another teacher."

"But what if I decide not to? What then?" Harry persisted.

"Do you not trust me?" Aravenne asked shrewdly. "Are you afraid that I may turn out to be in league with You-Know-Who, like two of your Professors were?"

"Um. Well." Harry wasn't sure what to say. "It's not you… To be honest we've only had one Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher that has actually helped me so far, and he…"

"And he was a friend of your father's: Remus Lupin." Aravenne completed, to a sharp glance from Harry. "Do not be surprised or worried that I know. I like to be aware of the people I am likely to interact with. It is a survival trait that became quite necessary before I settled down in America, and then returned here. You learn whether to trust people, and whether to be on your guard or not that way. As such, I can sympathise with your reluctance to trust me.

"If you are unsure about me, then I suggest that you question me until you decide whether I am honest or not. I will answer your questions as best I can."

Aravenne pulled himself up to sit on the table behind him, looking at Harry patiently, and silently. For a few seconds, Harry just stared at him. Aravenne was right, of course, he didn't trust him. And he didn't trust him because of something he had said. But here was Aravenne inviting Harry to question him, as if he had no fear of being discovered as a… as a… as someone who had ill-intent. And one of the problems Harry had, was that even though he didn't trust Aravenne, he had no idea what to suspect him of either.

It was only after Aravenne invited him to speak once more, that Harry asked him his first question.

"Well, sir, you know you said you were in Hogwarts at the same time as the Lestranges?"

Harry had intended to demand why he wasn't listed as a student in the school, but a glance at Aravenne's face changed his mind. He was certain he had seen a glimmer of surprise, and even concern on his face, and possibly even anger. If Aravenne really was up to something, maybe Harry shouldn't let him know that he knew.

"Yes." Aravenne said slowly, fixing Harry with his eyes.

"What house were you in?"

Aravenne seemed to take forever to reply. There seemed to be some strange kind of internal conflict going on inside him.

"I was a Slytherin." He answered finally.

Harry looked at him, suddenly more suspicious than ever, and said nothing. Aravenne wasn't even a Hogwarts student, why say he was a Slytherin?

"And now you see why it took me a long time to tell you." Aravenne gave a slight smile. "Our houses are traditional foes, are they not?"

"Yes." Harry agreed. "They are."

"If I wanted to cause you harm." Aravenne said swiftly. "Would I not have concealed my house, knowing our houses' rivalry?"

"Unless you wanted to persuade me to trust you by admitting it outright."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin." Aravenne replied, and laughed at the insulted expression on Harry's face. "Like it or not, you have abilities that would make you a prime candidate for Slytherin. But then, not every Slytherin is a Dark Wizard. For that matter, not all of them despise Muggleborn students. In fact, my Head of House's favourite student was a Gryffindor Muggleborn."

Harry glared at him, desperately trying to stop himself blurting out that he knew Aravenne wasn't a Slytherin.

"So why were you made a Slytherin then?" He challenged, pushing the invitation to ask questions to the limit. "Why did the Sorting Hat make you a Slytherin?"

"Because I asked it to with all my heart and soul. To not become a Slytherin would have been a sin in my family's eyes. To become a Gryffindor for example…" Aravenne laughed, and shook his head. "I would have been tossed out on my rear if I joined a different house. And I had traits that Salazar valued. I was pureblood, I was desperate to prove myself, and I had been brought up on the belief that Muggleborns and Half-bloods were inferior."

Harry cast around for another question to ask. "Why did you leave Britain to go to America?"

Again, Aravenne took his time to reply. "A few reasons. One of which was to flee from You-Know-Who-"

"You fled from Voldemort?" Harry asked immediately.

Aravenne flinched at the name. "I was a Slytherin, and came from a long line of ancestors who despised Muggleborns. I must confess that I was not brave enough to fight him, and I was in no position to remain neutral. Yes, I fled from Y-"

"Voldemort." Harry said firmly, well aware that no-one in the service of Voldemort could bear to hear their master's name said so loudly for long. Even Snape couldn't stand it, and he was supposedly the master spy.

Aravenne's flinch wasn't as pronounced the second time. Instead, he was staring at Harry hard.

"I have met very few people willing to say his name since he started to rise to power. Professor Dumbledore, of course, is one. The others were your father and two of his friends. Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. Like them, you are undoubtedly brave – but bravery alone is not enough. It can even be a disadvantage at times. Are you not scared of the – the person that has our world in chaos?"

He had very neatly turned Harry's challenge back upon him. "Yeah, well, of course I am, but I'm not scared of saying a name. It's not going to make much difference to whether he wants to kill me or not."

Aravenne chuckled. "Gryffindor bravery. I do envy you."

Harry eyed Aravenne carefully once more. "Why else did you run away then? You said there were a couple of reasons."

There was the usual wait for Aravenne's answer. "I wanted to start afresh, to go somewhere where I had no family pressure to do this, or that. Quite apart from You-Know-Who-"

"-Voldemort-" Harry substituted again, but Aravenne gave a slight smile, seemingly unaffected now.

"-I wanted to escape from Britain. I wanted to get away, and it didn't matter where I went. I did not settle in America straight away by any means, in fact, when I left, I had no clue that I would end up there."

"Well then, why didn't you return when Voldemort was defeated?" Harry demanded, but starting to ever-so-slightly forget his suspicions in his interest to hear Aravenne's story.

He paused once more. "I was never convinced You-Know-Who was gone forever. But more than that, I suppose the war made me lose my faith in humanity, or at least in Wizarding Britain, and it took me many long years to find it again. I could have returned – my family were either dead, or thought I was, and I imagine I could have made a new beginning here, but… I don't think I was ready to see the place once more. I made my living teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and lived a very enjoyable life in America."

"So why come back now? When Voldemort came back."

"I don't think I can give you a good answer to that. Events simply conspired to cause it. My faith in humanity was restored, and America made me a different person."

It was the first time Aravenne had made his reply immediately, and, coincidentally, it was the statement that caused Harry's suspicions to flood back. He looked at Aravenne sharply.

"Is there anything else I can say to try to convince you to take lessons with me?" Aravenne smiled.

"Roll up your left sleeve." Harry said, on the spur of the moment, all thoughts of restraint forgotten.

If Aravenne was a Death Eater, the Dark Mark would be shown. Harry fingered the wand in his pocket, suddenly remembering his self-advised caution, and wondering whether he had just made a grave error. Aravenne however, seemed rather surprised by this request, and looked at Harry quizzically for a second or two. Then, he thrust out his left arm, and rolled up the robes that covered it, revealing the unblemished skin below.

Harry let out his breath in a hiss of relief, not even realising that he had been holding it.

"Did I pass the test?" Aravenne asked suddenly. "Will you consent to learn the basics of wandless magic? I make no guarantees that you will find it easy however, or that you will progress quickly. Most of us can only successfully cast the more basic charms."

As if to demonstrate, he summoned a piece of parchment to his hand without using his wand, and then set it on fire, seemingly feeling no pain as the fire ate up the parchment.

"Can I think about it?" Harry asked, slightly nervously.

"Of course. But don't take too long: next time someone might end up worse than unconscious."

* * *

_A/N: A couple of answers to queries:_

_Luna is a nightmare to write in character (for me), and isn't in Harry's year or House, which means her involvement will be pretty limited. Sorry to all her fans, but if I am going to write her OOC, I'd rather not write her at all. Just my personal opinion as to how fanfic should be treated. As for ships - I try not to let romance get in the way of the story - and there was far too much romance in HBP for my liking, it got a bit... tedious after a while._


	19. The Scrivenings of Slytherin

**Chapter 19: The Scrivenings of Slytherin **

Harry closed the door softly behind him, and took a deep breath. That had been the strangest detention he'd ever had. Not to mention the shortest. So what had he found out? Aravenne didn't have the Dark Mark on his arm, and… That was all really. True, he had found the Professor's tale compelling, but it still started off with that same lie. That he had been to Hogwarts. That he had been in Slytherin even. And they (he and his friends) knew that that simply wasn't true.

He glanced at his wrist. It was past ten: in theory, he was out after curfew. He wasn't doing anything wrong, seeing as he had been told to go to a teacher's office, but there would still be awkward questions to answer if he was seen, and a whole load of time wasted, especially if it was Filch that found him. Besides, having to explain everything would take his thoughts away from the question of Aravenne, and whether he should take an extra lesson with him. The idea of wandless magic might be tempting, but he wasn't going to be reckless with his decisions this time.

He dug deep into his robe's pockets, withdrawing both his Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauder's Map. He whispered the words to activate the map, and quickly scanned the corridors near him. Filch was walking in his direction, it looked like. Harry swept the cloak over him with a bit of a flourish from years of practice, and crept towards one of the secret ways of the castle. Before he could reach the portrait of Ferrn the Furtive (always willing to help a student wanting to avoid detection), however, Filch came clumping around the corner.

Harry shrunk back towards the wall, hastily double-checking that he was completely concealed. He glanced back down at the map, and then stopped. There, over the lines depicting the rooms below him on the map was a small, untidy script that Harry didn't recognise. It wasn't Prongs', Padfoot's, or Moony's, so it had to be…

_Harry Potter? James's son? Are you there? Can you see this?_ Wormtail wrote. _HARRY POTTER! I am in the castle. _

Harry stared at the map mutely, mind surprisingly blank for a few seconds. And then what he was being told suddenly clicked in his head. Wormtail was in the castle?

All thoughts of staying hidden until he could get to Ferrn's secret passageway were forgotten. Keeping the cloak wrapped tightly around him, and holding the map in his other hand, he practically ran in the opposite direction to Filch.

"Who's there?" Filch demanded, hearing Harry's footsteps. He turned to stare in Harry's direction, searching for the student that might be lurking in shadows, just waiting for him to catch. "Wretched Poltergeist," he muttered eventually, as the ownerless footsteps disappeared into the distance.

Harry however, was long gone. He stopped as he rounded a corner and tapped the map.

"I'm here." He gasped. "Where's Wormtail? Is he-" Harry stopped, something had just hit him. "Why are you telling me this?"

_Harry Potter! I'm near the Great Hall. _

Harry shifted the map in his hands until it was open at the main door to the Great Hall, where a dot called Peter Pettigrew was moving past slowly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry demanded again.

_I'm not a traitor. I'd never hurt James or any son of his. The me in the castle must be bewitched, but _I_ would never do anything to hurt my friends._

Harry barely let the sentence sink in before he started to sprint, Invisibility Cloak billowing behind him, and not hiding him at all. He stuffed it back into his pocket as he ran and sprinted past complaining portraits, wrenching back the curtains and tapestries that covered some of the secret ways, or slamming doors behind him. At every turning he would take another look at the map, sometimes retracing his steps, as first Wormtail, and then the rest of the Marauders, directed him towards the intruder.

He skidded out onto the corridor that led to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, almost knocking Snape over as he did so and resuming his mad dash before Snape realized what had happened.

"Potter! Come back here!"

A flash of light sped over Harry's shoulder as he barged through a half open door, which slammed against the wall, and bounced back. Wand out, Harry swiveled, in order to take in the whole of the bathroom. There was momentary silence, where all that could be heard was the dripping of a tap that had not been turned off fully. Then –

"Just what do you think you're doing Potter?" Snape's voice shouted angrily from behind him.

"Wormtail." Harry bellowed. "He's here somewhere. Somewhere in this room."

"How do you- ? Of course – your map. So where is he?"

"There's no need to shout, you know." Moaning Myrtle's voice came from behind one of the closed doors, and drifting upwards with her back to them.

"Ghost – have you seen anyone come in here?" Snape snapped.

"There I was, sleeping peacefully, and the two of you have to come in here and shout loud enough to waken the dead. And this is a girls' bathroom, and you're not girls. Oh. Harry." She finished, seeing him for the first time as she turned.

"Hi Myrtle. Have you seen anyone or anything come in here?" Harry said loudly, and quickly, still looking around him frantically.

"You know it's rude not to look at someone when you're talking to them." Myrtle pointed out. "But nobody cares about Myrtle's feelings do they? You haven't even come to see me for ages, Harry. You used to be-"

"I know Myrtle. Look, I'm sorry, but this is important."

"Yes, everything's important except Myrtle, isn't it?"

"Ghost!" Snape said angrily. "Did you, or did you not see a rat come in here."

Myrtle shuddered. "I hate rats. But they don't like me either, no-one does, so they don't come in here."

"What direction is he then Potter? Surely your map will tell you that at least?" Snape snarled.

But before Harry could look at the Marauders' Map, Myrtle screamed, and pointed at the ceiling above her toilet. A rat with a silver paw launched itself through Myrtle's body, towards the sink opposite. Myrtle fled back to her toilet. Wormtail landed on the floor, and dodged a curse from Snape, running up the smooth ceramics towards the sink itself.

Thinking quickly, Harry pointed at the sink in question, and yelled loudly: "Suplaga!"

The spell hit the wall behind the sink, and a fine net extended over the basin, blocking the way to the plughole. Wormtail changed direction at the speed of light, and, dodging another spell of Snape's, slipped under the gap between the door to Myrtle's toilet, and the ground.

Harry ran forward, and opened the door, just in time to see Peter Pettigrew jump into the toilet bowl, and swim through Myrtle's head (and then body) once more.

"Damn it!" Harry yelled furiously, as Myrtle shrieked and rose into the air again.

He slammed the door behind him as he turned his back on the toilet bowl. It rebounded, causing the whole row of cubicles to shudder.

"Control your emotions, Potter." Snape snarled, walking to take his place to stare at the toilet. "Where is he?"

"Going down the pipes to the lake I guess, how should I know?" Harry replied angrily.

"You are the only one of the two of us currently holding a map of the castle and grounds." Snape said in a furiously calm voice.

"A map of the _castle_." Harry emphasised. "Not the plumbing."

"Well, are you sure he is not in this room?" Snape demanded.

Harry glanced at the map before replying defiantly. "Yes."

Snape walked forwards, pulled the chain, and then stood over the seat with his wand, muttering something. A shimmering, translucent puddle of – something – rose up from the u-bend, and solidified below the rim. Finally, he stepped backwards, and closed the door once more.

"Ghost." He commanded. "Come here."

A muffled 'No.' came from one of the toilets further down the row.

"I am a teacher of this school, ghost, and if you do not do as I say, I shall cast the charms to force you on your way. I have no time for the dearly departed." He gave Harry a cold smile as he spoke.

Myrtle rose sulkily into the air, rubbing at her tear stained face. "What?"

"If anyone, whether a man or a rat with a silver paw, enters this room before I come back, you will tell me immediately. Understood?"

"Why should I?" Myrtle replied petulantly.

Harry jumped in before Snape could say anything. "Myrtle, you remember the boy who was with the snake that killed you? Well, the rat that was just here is an animagus, and was trying to help him. We're trying to stop him. So if you see anyone, then-"

"O-oh! I'll tell you, Harry, I promise. But Harry, after fourth year and-"

Harry glared at her, and nodded towards Snape surreptitiously, but anxiously.

"- I thought you said you'd try and see me more often."

"I'm sorry Myrtle – I really will try. Thanks for saying you'll help us though."

Myrtle giggled, and did a sort of backwards somersault in the air, landing in a toilet once more. Harry felt rather sorry that such a simple word of praise should mean so much to her. She may be pretty annoying at times, but she must have been treated rather awfully.

"Friend of yours, Potter?" Snape said snidely.

"Yeah." Harry said loudly, and could have sworn he heard another joyful sort of sound coming from across the room.

Snape sneered, and then, said, commandingly. "Out, Potter."

"Why?"

"Because, you fool, I want to seal this room off to prevent intruders."

Harry retreated out of the door wordlessly, Snape following behind him.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me how you met this 'Myrtle'." Snape jeered, but Harry didn't respond.

There was a few seconds of silence, where Harry took a few steps backwards, but Snape held up his hand.

"Stay. After I finish, we are going to see the Headmaster."

"Fine. Why are you doing this, won't Wormtail be able to eventually break your charms?"

"Sir."

"Sir."

Snape gave a condescending smirk. "Because, Potter, in order to break my charms, you would have to be a wizard, and I somehow doubt Pettigrew will want to resume his normal form in the middle of a pipe leading to a toilet."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Severus, news already?" Dumbledore's slightly surprised face said as he opened the door, before he caught sight of the second person waiting there. "Ah. Harry. Please, come in and have a seat, both of you."

Fawkes started singing softly as he caught sight of Harry, and Harry felt a warmth spread inside him as he took his seat in a chair that was so comfortable, it almost seemed to swallow him up. Snape began to pace, now being watched carefully by Fawkes. Harry wondered if Fawkes was able to sense whether or not Snape was loyal to Dumbledore, like he had with him in second year, or if Occlumency prevented the Phoenix's natural ability.

"I am sure," Dumbledore continued, "that there is some rather interesting story behind yours and Harry's visit, Severus, but perhaps you would like to take a seat before imparting it?"

Snape continued to pace, before saying in disgust. "Potter ruined it, Albus. He came stampeding out of some passageway, causing Pettigrew to disappear down a toilet."

"A toilet?" Dumbledore asked, looking questioningly at Harry.

Harry nodded.

"Yes. A toilet in a girls' bathroom on the second floor." Snape replied.

"Very well, what have you done?"

"Oh, I cast a few simple charms, a solidifying charm on the toilet itself, a basic Prohibito charm on the bathroom, in case Pettigrew should try to re-enter the castle through the pipes, but he won't do that. He's too much of a coward. By now he has probably returned to the Dark Lord and told of his failure in such a way that he will avoid as much punishment as he can, laying the blame squarely upon me."

Snape had gestured wildly as he spoke, but as he came to the end, he visibly seemed to control himself, and, with a slight shake of the head, sat down on a straight backed chair.

"Are you saying you knew Wormtail was in the castle?" Harry demanded.

"Yes, Harry-" Professor Dumbledore began, but Harry interrupted him.

"And let me guess, _he_ was following him?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Dumbledore looked sternly at Harry. "Professor Snape was following Peter Pettigrew, yes."

"Albus." Snape cut in, speaking quickly, but calmly. "Not only is it considerably in my best interests if nobody is aware of any of the orders that either the Dark Lord, or you give me, but I believe I can safely say that Potter is probably the person whose knowledge of my activities would be the most detrimental."

"Scared I'm going to return the favour, and tell Voldemort that you are the most likely person to get rid of him, are you?" Harry retorted.

"Why do you assume that everything I do must revolve around you, Potter? Believe me when I say that the less I have to do with you the better in my opinion. When I… heard what I heard, I had no idea it applied to anybody called Potter. Believe it or not, but I had hoped I would never have to think of your family again," Snape scowled.

"That is enough. Both of you." Dumbledore said sharply. "I have long decided that persuading you to trust, even like, each other is a job too large for any one man. You shall have to prove yourselves to each other." Both Harry and Snape scoffed loudly, but Dumbledore continued. "But that is no reason why you cannot be civil to each other while we are in private. Working against Voldemort means that we have to work together."

"Really Albus," Snape said, eying Harry malevolently, "I think I would rather Potter kept his attitude towards me, it certainly does come in useful."

"Oh yeah?" Harry demanded. "That's why you obsess about trying to put me in detention is it?"

"Harry, Severus, while you are in my office, there will be no more hostilities. Understood?" Dumbledore said with finality.

"Potter is a student-" Snape began.

"A student who has done things, and endured things whilst attempting to stop Voldemort that most people can scarcely imagine." Dumbledore said quietly.

"Very well, Albus, but I still believe that with the Dark Lord's access to Mr Potter's mind, that he is the last person who should be given sensitive information." Snape said eventually.

"I am quite aware of the situation, Severus; I am also quite aware that it is necessary for Harry to be told certain information." Dumbledore replied calmly. "Now, Harry, do I have your word that you will try to leave your problems with Professor Snape outside this room?"

Harry glared at the Headmaster for a few seconds. Fawkes, who had quietened as the argument began, flew to Harry's knee, and perched there calmly, staring at the Headmaster, and allowing Harry to stroke him.

"I'll try." Harry said finally. "But it's hard when he brings… things … up."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Very well. Now, Harry, Lord Voldemort sent Peter Pettigrew here tonight on a mission that we know little about. All that Severus was told, was that he must find a way to grant him access, and make sure he was not disturbed. Being unsure as to Voldemort's intentions, Severus followed Pettigrew, both to make sure nobody could come to harm, and to discover Voldemort's goal."

"However," Snape took over, speaking in a forcedly polite tone, "you appeared, startling Peter Pettigrew, and causing him to flee before I could discover his final destination."

"Of course, had we not already been aware of Pettigrew's intrusion, Professor Snape would now be praising you, rather than bemoaning your interference." Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Of course." Snape said, looking like he would never even consider bestowing a word of praise towards Harry.

"All is not lost, however, for I fancy that Harry can tell us at least part of what Peter Pettigrew's mission was. And, if my suspicions are correct, we can suggest the rest."

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry said immediately. "He tried to get into the pipe that leads there."

"Yes." Dumbledore mused. "I confess I had not considered that Peter Pettigrew might be able to enter the Chamber of Secrets without Parseltongue before you entered my room just now. I imagined that he must have been searching for a book of some sort, but now I think we know differently."

"So why?" Harry burst out. "Why did he want to get into the Chamber of Secrets? I mean, all that's there now is a dead snake, and a load of bones of mice and rats and things."

"Albus." Snape said warningly. "Potter does not need to know this."

"Yes. I do." Harry said defiantly. "I am the person he has tried to kill for four out of the last five years."

"Potter, believe it or not, it is for your own safety I do not wish you to know."

Harry was ever so tempted to fling a retort in Snape's direction, but he was restrained by his promise to Dumbledore.

"I believe," Dumbledore began slowly, "and so does Severus, that Voldemort wishes you to hear of the thing he is searching for. However, seeing as this affects you powerfully, I also believe you have the right to hear it. Tom Riddle, I believe, is after something that a few months ago I didn't think even existed, except in legend; an existence which even a few weeks ago, despite learning of his interest in it, I still believed more than implausible. But now... He shook his head. "Despite the fact that I still find the idea highly unlikely, it is something I can no longer dismiss."

"But what is it?" Harry urged.

"I believe he is striving to find the Scrivenings of Slytherin." Dumbledore said finally.

Judging by the looks of the two men in the room with Harry, as well as the looks on the couple of portraits that had not managed to successfully keep their façade of sleep, Harry was missing something.

"Er… Scrivenings?"

"Scrivenings, Potter. Scribings, Writings, Compositions. Scrivenings." Snape said impatiently.

"Oh. Well, what are they about, and why does he want them?"

Snape shook his head in disbelief at Harry's ignorance, but said nothing. It was Dumbledore that explained.

"Salazar Slytherin is the one Founder that we have virtually no information about. We know that he came from a largely uninhabited area, near few witches or wizards, but even less Muggles, that it was he and Gryffindor that first put forward the plans to make a Wizarding school, and that after its completion he and Godric Gryffindor had some kind of falling out because of the Muggleborn witches and wizards that wished to attend the school. After that, even from the records of the other Founders, the details are sparse.

"From there, we have to resort to gleaning details from legends. The first legend, of course, was the Chamber of Secrets: a room that for centuries was believed to be myth, until Tom Riddle managed to open it. Now we know that that legend, at least, was true. Many other myths have been suggested, including a place of great Dark powers that he retreated to after leaving Hogwarts; that he left Britain entirely, in order to create a place for Dark Wizards to study, so that they might return and exact his revenge against Hogwarts; and others too preposterous to mention. The Scrivenings of Slytherin was another of these legends.

"It is said that Slytherin spent all of his energies into the research of the Old Magicks. Depending on which tale you believe, he took a very heterogeneous approach to this study, or a very confined one, concentrating on solely the darker aspects of the Old Magicks. It is perhaps significant that the older the legend, the more it is suggested that his studies covered defensive charms, or offensive jinxes, healing spells, or dangerous curses, medicinal draughts, or poisonous concoctions rather than solely the more dangerous subjects. This research he then entered into – again depending on the account – an encyclopaedic sized collection of volumes, or a single scrap of parchment."

"So basically," Harry summarised, with a nervous pain in his stomach, "if Voldemort finds them, then we're screwed?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I am not sure I would quite put it like that, but yes, if Voldemort does successfully obtain the Scrivenings, he shall eventually increase his abilities, and magical knowledge, considerably. That does not necessarily mean that we will be, er, screwed, as you put it, however."

Seeing Harry's rather fearful face, the old man continued. "That is not to say that there is any convincing evidence that the Scrivenings do in fact exist. However, seeing as Voldemort appears to be serious in his efforts to find them, we must take them seriously also."

"Why now?" Harry asked. "Why is he only trying to find them now?"

"That would be because of you." Snape inserted dryly.

Dumbledore looked at Snape with a rather amused, yet irritated expression on his face.

"It has taken numerous years, but it appears that Voldemort has only now decided to take the lines that he heard of the Prophecy seriously. After the attack in Hogsmeade, he now seems to accept the fact that you may have the power to vanquish him, and that he ought to be wary of you."

"Why?" Harry asked, nonplussed. "I mean, its not as if I did anything really spectacular is it?"

"You deflected a powerful curse back towards a powerful wizard. By all rights, you should have been killed, but yet it was Rodolphus Lestrange who did not survive. Voldemort has finally stopped underestimating much of the protection surrounding you."

"Yeah, but that was just luck, wasn't it?"

"How do you imagine you might have survived the encounter?" Dumbledore asked.

"Um, well, I dunno." Harry said, feeling uncomfortable. "I guess I thought I must have done accidental magic or something. I seem to have done that a bit recently."

"That would have been possible, if unlikely." Dumbledore allowed. "But I fancy that the reason can be traced to the things you were thinking at, or just before, that moment."

"You mean…" Harry said, slowly, "I was thinking of my… mum. And so… You said when he came back, the reason I survived was because I was thinking of… And… the reason he wants to find out about old magic is…"

"Your mother's sacrifice." Dumbledore said quietly. "Yes, Harry."

"Which isn't to say that this doesn't affect the rest of us as well." Snape said, unable to completely hide his sneer. "Virtually nobody has knowledge about the Old Magicks."

"Not even you, sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "No, neither Voldemort, nor even myself, can say we know more than the tip of the iceberg. Even in the time of the Founders, most of the knowledge had been lost, and more has disappeared since."

"So what do we do sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"We?" Snape began, but Dumbledore overrode him.

"The first thing the three of us will do, is sleep, and get some rest. Tomorrow night, we shall have to see if we can find what Peter Pettigrew was searching for. Harry, of course," He said, looking at Snape, "is the only person who can allow us entry to the Chamber. And Severus," now he looked towards Harry and Fawkes, "being the Head of Slytherin House, will definitely be required."

Snape and Harry both scowled.

"When, sir?" Harry asked.

"I think immediately dinner finishes tomorrow Harry. I am afraid we may have to forego your Occlumency lesson this week."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry waked through the portrait hole a quarter of an hour later, mind whirling. The first people he saw were Ron, Ginny, and Dean, talking together, seemingly about Quidditch, although judging by the expressions on Ginny and Dean's faces, they didn't want Ron's company, and judging by how well Harry knew Ron, he knew it and was staying there on purpose. Hermione was curled up in an armchair in front of the fire with a book; in exactly the same pose, in fact, in which she had settled herself when Harry left the common room to see Aravenne. There were a sprinkling of other people in the room, but most had gone upstairs to bed. Harry made a beeline for Ron, who looked up as he approached.

"Hi Harry, how was detention with Aravenne?" Ron began, before looking at Harry more carefully. "Are you okay mate?"

"Yeah, fine. Look, I need to talk to you." Harry said distractedly.

Dean's look of gratitude towards Harry quickly turned into a frown, as Ginny was the next to question him. "What about? Are you sure you're okay? You don't look well."

"I'm fine. It's nothing." Harry replied absently. "Look, Ron, I think I'd better get Hermione too, I'll be back in a second."

"Okay." Ron replied slowly, looking rather concerned.

Harry walked over to where Hermione was sitting, who jumped as Harry reached a yard in front of her, snapping shut her book with a slight yelp. She shook her head, and took a couple of deep breaths.

"You startled me Harry, I didn't think you'd be back this soon. You only went something like five minutes ago!"

"I need to talk to you and Ron." Harry said shortly, not really hearing what she had just said.

"Ron? But…" Hermione finally glanced at her watch, and saw the time. "Yes, of course, but why?"

Harry led her to the most secluded part of the common room, and Ron joined him there with a shrug at Ginny and Dean. Dean looked delighted to be rid of him, while Ginny looked rather worried.

"What's up Harry?" Ron said, rather loudly, "Something happen with Aravenne."

"Shut up." Harry hissed, looking around.

"Wait a moment." Hermione said calmly.

She took out her wand, muttered a few words, and the noise around them dimmed slightly.

"What'd you do?" Ron demanded.

"I got the idea from Harry's dad and Sirius' mirror," Hermione began, "it makes it harder for people to listen in on us. They-"

"You can tell us later." Harry said irritably. "This is important."

Hermione looked a trifle put out.

"So what happened then mate?" Ron asked. "Something about Aravenne?"

"What? No, not Aravenne. He wasn't even giving me detention."

"What?" Ron demanded.

"Look – I'll explain it later, just let me talk will you? It was after I finished talking to him. I looked at the Marauders' Map, and it told me-"

"What do you mean it told you?" Ron demanded.

"What? It told me, you know, it wrote that…" Harry hesitated, remembering he hadn't told Ron about the map's ability to converse. "Look it doesn't matter now, I'll explain it later, but it told me that Wormtail was in the castle."

At that moment, Ginny appeared next to Hermione. "So what's up?" She asked.

Harry was momentarily distracted. "I thought you'd want to be with Dean?"

"Don't tell me you didn't hear." Ginny said, looking as if she thought Harry was trying to make a very bad joke.

"Hear what?" Ron demanded.

"That huge row I just had with Dean."

"Oh." Hermione interrupted, as if she suddenly realised something. "That would have been because of the charm I cast-"

"Later!" Harry said in absolute exasperation. "Look, you can explain later!"

And finally, Harry managed to tell the tale of his evening to his friends.

"The Scrivenings of Slytherin." Hermione said slowly, almost to herself, immediately Harry explained what it was.

"Don't tell me you've heard of it?" Ron said in what was more like resignation than surprise.

"There was something in 'Hogwarts, a History' about it. Near where it mentioned the Chamber of Secrets actually."

There was a very small intake of breath, that Harry barely noticed, and he got halfway through his next sentence before stopping.

"Yeah, well, I doubt it'll say something Dumb- Ginny. Are you okay?"

Ginny's face was pale, and her reply had an almost imperceptible slight stammer. "Y- Yeah. I'm fine."

Ron seemed slightly taken aback, and a little worried. "Are you sure Gin?"

Hermione looked more sympathetic than concerned, and it was that that meant Harry put two and two together. The fact that Ginny had been having bad dreams, and had been talking only to Hermione, that she didn't want Dreamless Sleep potions, why Harry nearly dying while saving her at Hogsmeade might have affected her so badly, suddenly all made sense.

"Look, Ginny. The only two people that actually know what happened down there in the Chamber of Secrets are you and me. And Dumbledore." He amended. "Voldemort doesn't have a clue, and nor do any of his Death Eaters."

Ginny flinched more violently than she had for years at the sound of Voldemort's name, and looked away. Harry struggled for something to say, and for some reason felt he had to keep talking.

"That can never happen again. You know that, right? The Basilisk's dead, and…" He looked at Hermione desperately pleading for help.

Hermione, of course, must have been trying to help Ginny for weeks, but she comforted her now, and took over.

"I think what Harry's trying to say, is that the Voldemort in the diary and the Voldemort out there now don't know the same things. He doesn't know the things you told the diary, or the things that happened in second year – your first. And there's no way he ever will."

"Yeah." Harry said gratefully. "And Ginny… The dreams, they do go away. They…" He stopped, looking uncomfortably at Ron and Hermione, but plunged on anyway. "I had nightmares about Cedric… and Sirius… and they do, they will go. They're not going to haunt you every night for a hundred years."

Harry didn't say anything else, but now he was also looking anywhere but at any of his three friends too.

There was silence, before he looked back at the sound of Ginny's voice. "Thanks Harry," she said weakly. "Well, thanks, all of you. But I _am_ okay, really."

She gave a small smile to Hermione and Ron, while the latter was trying desperately to be the big, dependable, brother, and comfort her, while also looking like he hadn't a clue what to do, and like he didn't want to be part of a scene (although Hermione's charm seemed to be taking care of that side of things).

"So, why exactly is You-Know-Who after these Scrivenings, or whatever they are?" she continued, visibly making an effort.

So Harry told them everything he could remember Dumbledore saying, including Harry's blood protection. He figured that if he was going to tell them some of it, he might as well tell them everything.

"So it was the blood protection that saved you from Lestrange?" Ron asked. "Did Dumbledore say why exactly? Or can you just not die?"

Harry felt himself going red. He remembered Dumbledore asking him about why he had apparated in front of Ginny. He hadn't wanted her to die protecting someone else like his mother had. He also remembered how Dumbledore had had to make sure that he had not done it because he thought he couldn't be killed.

"I'm not immortal." He said quickly.

"Was it something you were thinking or doing then?" Ron asked, giving a very quick, almost imperceptible glance towards Ginny.

"Supposedly if I think of certain things, I can call my mum's protection to me or something. I'm not completely sure. But I know it only works against Voldemort or someone who wants to hurt me for him."

"That explains your shield." Hermione said thoughtfully. "I wondered about that."

"How?" Ginny asked; she had not said much since Harry had talked about the Chamber of Secrets.

"Don't you remember how the curse went through his shield, but as the curse hit Harry, the shield changed colour? It went green – like the curse that-"

"Should have killed me." Harry finished for Hermione. "You know, now I think about it, all I can remember from that Halloween is a load of green light."

"But I still don't understand what you meant when you said the map _told_ you Wormtail was in the castle." Ron said.

"It was Wormtail himself. Well, the fifteen year old version of hi-" He glanced at Ginny, before looking beseechingly at Hermione. "Can you explain, Hermione?"

And after Hermione had tactfully explained about that, and everyone had told of their surprise, Ginny looking nervous, and Ron annoyed that Harry hadn't mentioned it sooner; then Harry was forced to relate the other thing he had promised to explain later – his meeting with Aravenne. Whereupon (to her satisfaction) Hermione finally had a chance to explain how her charm ensured that unless people were consciously trying to spy on them, they wouldn't see, or hear anything unusual about their conversation.

"And I haven't worked out a way to make it only one way, so we aren't going to notice much happening around us either. It's too dangerous to use a lot of the time, but I thought it would be okay for now." She finished.

"Yes, you did seem to be chatting rather happily considering how Harry looked when he came in." Ginny noted. "I didn't think of it at the time, but-"

"What was your argument with Dean about?" Ron asked immediately, remembering what Ginny had said.

"Oh." Ginny said, turning red, and sounding annoyed. "Dean just got jealous because I was worried if a male non-blood related friend was all right. It's nothing. But anyway, what are you going to do about Aravenne, Harry? Are you going to take this extra class?"

"I dunno." Harry admitted. "I didn't know when I left his office, and then I forgot about it. I still can't really think about it to be honest. All I can think of is how Voldemort is trying to get his hands on something that could make him even more powerful, and stop what seems like the only thing that Dumbledore said he underestimated, and that could defeat him. Or at least protect me."

"You still have 'power that he knows not' mate." Ron said, trying to encourage him. "Remember what the Prophecy said?"

"Yeah, well, what if this was it? What if that was the power he didn't know?" Harry said glumly.

"Well, we'll just have to find this 'Scrivenings' before he does then," Ron said sensibly.

"What's Dumbledore doing about it Harry?" Hermione asked.

"What Ron said: trying to find it first. I'm going to open the Chamber up tomorrow and go in there with him and Snape. See if we can find what Wormtail was looking for."

"You'll be careful, won't you Harry?" Ginny said rather anxiously.

"I'll be with Dumbledore." Harry said with a slight shrug. "I'll be fine. Anyway, the Basilisk is dead."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Er, Myrtle?" Harry asked cautiously as he entered her bathroom behind Professor Snape.

Almost immediately, her ghostly shape rose up from a cubicle. "Hi Harry!"

"Um. Hi. Myrtle, this is Headmaster Dumbledore. Professor, this is, ah, Myrtle." He didn't bother to introduce Snape.

"I know who he is." Myrtle answered. "He used to teach me Transfiguration."

"Good evening Miss de' Los," Dumbledore said, taking off his hat politely, "please allow me to thank you for keeping guard for the last day. I am sure Harry has explained how important this is, and thus how much we appreciate your help."

"Harry said that you're trying to stop the boy who killed me." Myrtle said, in a voice that sounded like she couldn't believe the attention she was getting.

"Quite so." Dumbledore replied, with a glance at Harry. "Perhaps you would consent to continue to keep your vigil? It would certainly be very much appreciated if you could warn us if that rat with the silver paw appears, or if anyone opens this sink."

"Do you mean like Harry did four years ago?" Myrtle asked curiously.

"Exactly, and, with any luck, you shall see it happen again now."

"I'll tell Harry if anyone comes in here. Harry or you, sir." She added as an afterthought.

Dumbledore offered her his twinkling smile. "You have my thanks Miss de' Los."

"Right." Harry muttered, walking to the sink, and staring at it, trying to believe the snakes were real.

"Are you going to open it, or look at it Potter?" Snape asked impatiently.

"It's not like speaking French or something." Harry snapped back. "I need to believe I'm actually talking to a snake."

"Severus." Dumbledore warned in a soft voice.

"Very well." Snape said, ignoring Dumbledore. "Step back, Potter."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded, so Harry took a couple of steps backwards.

"Serpensortia!" Snape uttered.

A smooth and shining large black snake coiled itself together in front of the sink. It raised its head, and looked directly towards Harry.

"Er. Hi." Harry said, but it wasn't in his normal voice, instead it came out in a sibilant hiss.

"Well Potter, go on, open it."

"Open up." Harry hissed, and the sink started to sink.

The snake disappeared in a puff of smoke, but Snape's superior sneer remained.

"After you, sir." Harry said politely to the Potions master, in order to get some revenge.

The prospect of stepping into the unknown first, however, did not seem to worry Snape as Harry had hoped. He simply strode to the gaping hole, sat down and slipped inside, disappearing.

"After you, Harry." Dumbledore smiled.

"Harry." Myrtle said slightly breathlessly, as he approached the hole. "What I said, last time… I still mean it, you know?"

Harry's mouth opened, but he couldn't find any words for a few seconds. "Er. Thanks Myrtle," he said finally, before turning to Dumbledore. "Oh. Sir, it's likely to get very messy down here."

"Which you naturally forgot to inform Professor Snape of." Dumbledore said with just a hint of reproach. "Still, at least the two of us need not worry. Altecutis."

Dumbledore had pointed the wand at Harry as he spoke the spell, and Harry felt a light film cover his body, although he seemed to have no trouble breathing. Dumbledore repeated the spell, pointing at himself this time.

"I think we are ready now Harry, so after you."

"I really did forget." Harry said sheepishly as he jumped into the pipe, rather enjoying the slide down to the Chamber this time, as he knew where he was going.

He landed on his hands and knees on the same rocky passage, with the same thin film of slime on top of it, that Harry remembered. Ahead of him, he could just about make out an extremely mucky Snape trying to remove the worst of the dirt from himself in the darkness. Harry hid his grin, and moved quickly upright, and out of the way, for Dumbledore was following behind him.

Dumbledore landed lightly on his feet, gave an amused glance towards both Harry and Snape, and muttered calmly: "Effundo."

The dirt and slime that had momentarily been coating both Harry and Dumbledore fell off, as did the translucent film that had also covered their bodies. Snape shot Harry a venomous look.

"Thank you for the warning, Potter."

Harry shrugged. He might have forgotten, but he enjoyed the effect.

A bright light shone out from above them, causing Harry to blink. A five metre square of the ceiling was glowing cheerfully, illuminating the dark of the passageway.

"There is little point remaining in the dark." Dumbledore said brightly. "Shall we?"

Dumbledore took the lead, and Harry followed him, followed by a slightly cleaner (but not much) Snape. They continued down the winding passageway, Dumbledore providing light from the ceiling until they reached the roof fall where Dumbledore raised his eyes towards Harry in an unspoken question.

"This is where Gilderoy Lockhart tried to wipe Ron and my memories." Harry hastened to explain. "We kind of burrowed a way through it, in case we caused another collapse while trying to get rid of the rocks."

"Quite sensible." Dumbledore nodded. "However, there is no need to worry about that now I am here."

With just a small motion of his wand, he created a bright, shining, marble pillar from the ground upwards, the rocks he was transfiguring disappearing as he worked. Another effortless spell caused the cracks in the ceiling above them to disappear, and hold firm once more. Dumbledore's spell work seemed to have cleaned the floor as well as tidied it, for the rock beneath was spotless and bone dry.

"Shall we continue then?"

They continued in silence, apart from a merry tune that Dumbledore was humming under his breath, and, far quicker than Harry had remembered it taking, were met by a sudden barrier. A perfectly smooth space of rock faced them, where Harry had remembered two serpents entwined. Serpents with emerald green eyes which looked almost alive.

"What now, Potter?" Snape demanded. "You have led us to a dead end."

"But…" Harry said, perplexed. "When I was here before, there were two snakes on that wall. And they split in two when I spoke Parseltongue."

"Curious." Dumbledore said. "You are sure we could not have missed a turning?"

"Yes." Harry said firmly.

"Very well."

The old wizard moved forwards, and felt the wall in front of them. He needed mere seconds before turning to Harry and Snape.

"There is indeed a door here, protected by some powerful magic it seems. I believe I shall be able to find a way through, but it may take time. Hopefully we shall not have to resort to physical force. Severus, if you would give me a hand please?"

Snape walked forwards to assist Dumbledore, and Harry took a step back. His knowledge of magic wouldn't be of any use to Dumbledore. Dumbledore and Snape were speaking quietly and out of Harry's earshot, and Harry ignored them but rather tried to solve the question of where the two snakes had gone.

"-a Gryffind-"

Harry blinked, he was sure he had just heard a whisper. It wasn't something he'd normally have noticed, but he had definitely heard a voice, a whisper, over the voices of the two men trying to open the door.

"Sh." He said reflexively.

"What is it Potter?" Snape demanded.

"I heard something. Just be quiet for a second."

Harry turned his back in order to concentrate, but nevertheless saw Dumbledore hold out his hand to prevent Snape from replying.

"-killed Salazar's basilisk." A different voice hissed.

"But the other attacked him; the one who claimed to be his heir."

"Who's there?" Harry demanded, and with a start, he realised he was speaking in Parseltongue.

_Were there snakes around? _He wondered.

There was silence, but Harry could have sworn he had heard an angry, wordless, hiss.

"Parseltongue," Dumbledore said in the silence. "I presume you were talking to the guardians of the door, Harry?"

"Oh." Harry said. "Yes, I might have been. I thought they might have been actual, real, snakes out of sight, but they were talking about Salazar Slytherin by name. But then how do you teach stone carvings how to speak Parseltongue? If it was easy to teach it, wouldn't more people be able to talk to snakes?"

"Salazar Slytherin was a great wizard Potter. Perhaps in terms of magical ability, the greatest of the Hogwarts four." Snape told him.

Dumbledore just smiled. "What were they saying, Harry?"

"Er, one was saying that I was the one who killed the Basilisk, at least, I think that's what he said, I didn't catch all of it. The other was suggesting it wasn't my fault. I asked who was there, but they didn't answer."

"I see. Are they saying anything now?"

Harry listened intently. "No."

Dumbledore nodded. "No doubt they heard us coming, and hid before we approached. Now they must be trying to decide whether to allow us entry or not. Well, we must enter, so if they will not show themselves, we may, I fear, be forced to open the door by force."

"Albus!" Snape cried in alarm. "These carvings, they may be Salazar's familiars! We can't just destroy them."

"Perhaps. But they may give us no choice. Perhaps you ought to warn them, Harry."

Harry turned his back, and then cleared his mind, and tried to think of those two snakes' voices he had heard earlier.

"Are you two still here?" He asked in what he was relieved to hear was a hiss. "Come out and talk to me, or else we shall have to force our way through."

There was a slight silence, before he heard a reply. "You shall fail. Salazar Slytherin himself protected our gateway."

"Professor Dumbledore is the strongest wizard alive today. If anyone can break it, it's him." Harry said, and then waited for a reply.

"Who is the other?" The other snake's voice asked.

"Professor Snape. He's the Head of Slytherin House. He doesn't want to destroy you."

"Ah. Success." Albus Dumbledore's voice said mildly.

Harry swivelled to see one snake back in its place on the wall, staring out at the three of them, while the other made its way onto the smooth slab, winding around its companion as it did.

"Why do you want to go in?" It hissed angrily.

"Remember, Harry, the truth is your most powerful weapon." Dumbledore said quietly.

"But," Harry replied, "but what if they want to support Voldemort? He is Slytherin's descendent."

"What are you saying?" The snake that had spoken before hissed. "Does the Head of Salazar's house not speak Parseltongue?"

"No. I am the only one that speaks it."

Both the snakes hissed angrily, and wordlessly.

"What are you saying, Potter?" Snape demanded.

Harry sighed. He was going to have a very sore throat after this, if he was going to have to translate to and fro.

"They want to know why we want to enter the Chamber of Secrets. And they don't seem very impressed that you don't know how to speak Parseltongue." He smirked slightly, despite himself.

"Perhaps you should start by finalising the introductions." Dumbledore suggested. "I always find that the best place to start a negotiation."

"Um. Maybe we should- Er. My name is Harry Potter, it'll be easier to talk if we know what to call each other." Harry said awkwardly in Parseltongue.

"I am Shiakana." The second of the snakes told him. Harry wondered if it was a female.

"Kaen." The other said, in a slightly aggressive tone.

"Kaen and Shiakana." Dumbledore repeated to Harry's translation. "Perhaps you should ask why they do not wish us to enter?"

"There is nothing there, no reason for you to enter." Shiakana hissed in response.

"Then why can't we go in?"

"You killed the creature that could have saved this school," Kaen said angrily. "Do you deny it?"

"Saved the school?" Harry repeated equally angrily. "It was petrifying innocent Muggleborns. It attacked two of my friends!"

"Typical Gryffindor idealism." Kaen hissed. "The death of a couple of innocents is worth it if it saves our kind from extinction."

"Your kind." Harry spat. "Maybe your kind shouldn't survive if it has to kill innocent people."

"Our kind." Shiakana replied. "Wizard-kind everywhere."

"Albus, Potter cannot be trusted with delicate negotiations." Snape said loudly. "Surely you have noticed how he seems to be antagonising Salazar's guardians, judging by the tones of these hisses."

Little as Harry would like to admit it – Snape had a point. He perhaps should change topic.

"Okay – it'll probably take a long time until we agree with each other there. You do know that Tom Riddle attacked me with the Basilisk, right? I had to defend myself."

"Which is what I said." Shiakana hissed. "If you were attacked, Kaen, would you not kill your attacker rather than be destroyed yourself?"

"It does not matter! If Salazar's heir wishes him dead, then who are we to argue? Did not this Lord Voldemort share the same goals as his ancestor? The removal of the Muggleborns?"

"But he-"

"Did you know Voldemort is a Halfblood?" Harry said in mild desperation. "His real name is Tom Riddle, after his father: a Muggle."

There was silence.

"And did you know that the reason I came here in the first place was that he kidnapped my friend? My _pureblood_ friend?"

This seemed to make a rather large impact upon Kaen, for he recoiled on the tablet, his body far looser around Shiakana than previously.

"What is your bloodline?" Shiakana asked – quite politely it seemed.

"Both of my parents went to Hogwarts. My mother was Muggleborn, and my father pureblood." Harry told them, defiantly proud of his Muggle blood.

"And?" Kaen demanded.

"And I don't know anything else. They were murdered when I was one."

Harry wasn't quite sure why he had admitted to them that he was a Halfblood, for he did not expect it to impress them. It was what Dumbledore had told him to do, however, and he trusted him.

"Well, Potter?" Snape demanded, quite annoyed, it seemed, that Harry was talking to these statues that were created by Slytherin, and he couldn't.

"The Head of Slytherin House. What is his heritage?" Kaen demanded.

"Er, Kaen wants to know if you are a pureblood or not."

"Pureblood. Of course." Snape sneered.

The sounds the snakes made when Harry related his answer could have been either approval, or disgust. Harry couldn't tell. As of yet he was not particularly proficient at judging what their wordless hisses meant. By the very slight raising of Dumbledore's eyebrows, he wondered whether Snape was telling the truth or not himself. Although he couldn't imagine him being made a Slytherin if he wasn't.

"Why do you wish to enter?" Shiakana asked. "Nothing lies inside, Salazar's gift is gone."

"Thanks to you." Kaen added.

"Quiet!" Shiakana hissed angrily.

"I do not take orders from females-" Kaen began.

Shiakana reared up on the tablet, and in the matter of seconds spread Kaen's coils apart, and bared her fangs behind his head.

"I take it they are having a disagreement." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Shiakana wants to know why we want to enter. And Kaen is a bit of a chauvinist, and Shiakana doesn't like it." Harry added as an afterthought.

"Ah, yes, the fairer sex should certainly be underestimated at your peril." Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"You don't need to tell me; I'm friends with Hermione and Ginny."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. Well Harry, as I said before, the truth is your friend."

"You want me to tell them we are searching for the Scrivenings of Slytherin?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Albus-" Snape began, seemingly sharing Harry's opinions for a change.

"Yes Harry, I do."

"Well?" Shiakana demanded.

"We- We are searching for the Scrivenings of Slytherin." Harry said nervously.

"Indeed?" Shiakana said in a dubious voice. "And what exactly are they?"

"You don't know?" Harry asked, trying not to allow his eagerness to show.

"No." Kaen hissed, now freed from Shiakana's threat.

"You are pleased that we do not know of them." Shiakana observed. "Their discovery would affect you in some way."

Harry said nothing.

"What are they?" She repeated.

"They're a collection of writings about Old Magicks." Harry said.

"I see." She hissed.

"What does this Professor Snape think of Muggleborns?" Kaen demanded, changing the direction of the conversation once more.

"Tell them that they cannot seriously expect me to answer that question in present circumstances." Snape said in answer to Harry's question. "And pray also ask them to cease their attempts at Legilimency towards me. I appreciate my privacy."

Harry could have sworn that the sound this time was one of laughter from the two snakes. Snape's reply seemed to amuse them.

"Perhaps he could put forward reasons that are not his own as to why the Muggleborns should be removed from this school then?" Kaen asked, almost mockingly.

Snape paused for a few moments. "It has been suggested to me that without their knowledge of our ways and customs, we are in danger of losing our identity."

"Not enough." Kaen hissed. "Rituals can be taught."

"I have also been told that often the pure-blooded amongst our number are of superior skill. A Squib, although they happen, is a rare occurrence in comparison to Muggleborns of inferior quality."

"True, but again not enough." Kaen replied. "Some Muggleborns have power."

"A third reason put forward is that if more time is spent towards the improvement of the knowledge of purebloods," Snape began again, "then the Wizarding World will be in the hands of those that understand our needs."

"Anything else?"

"The other reason the Dark Lord told me was simply that Muggleborns are dirty in some way. Unworthy. Inferior." Snape finished.

As Harry translated Snape's answer, correcting the Dark Lord to Voldemort as he spoke, he suddenly appreciated what Snape was doing. He was trying to make them distrust Voldemort. It created a reaction from the two snakes as well: Kaen hissed angrily and although Shiakana stayed silent, her Emerald eyes seemed to gleam.

"Who else is after Salazar's Scrivenings?" She demanded from Harry suddenly.

Harry looked at Dumbledore imploringly. "She wants to know who else is after them!"

Kaen hissed furiously at his reversion to English. Snape shook his head.

"Then tell her the truth, Harry." Dumbledore said serenely.

"Lord Voldemort." Harry said unwillingly in Parseltongue.

"And why is the Head of Slytherin not working for the Heir of Salazar?" She demanded.

"My reasons are my own." Snape replied furiously.

"Then you may not enter." Shiakana said with finality.

Harry glared at Snape as he translated.

"I do not believe that he follows the same beliefs the great Salazar Slytherin had." Snape said guardedly. "He is just as willing to kill Purebloods as anybody else."

"Why else?" Shiakana demanded.

"He will kill anyone who gains power enough to even slightly threaten him. My own chances of success in the world will be nonexistent if he triumphs."

"These are not all of his feelings." Kaen hissed angrily. "Nor must he be telling the truth. We know he will lie."

"And yet some of his words are truthful. And if he does not know Salazar's beliefs, why should this Voldemort? Remember, he kidnapped a Pureblood girl, in order to attack a boy with blood as pure, or purer, than his. Salazar would not have done that."

"I do not believe either of them. This boy is a Gryffindor. Why should we trust him?"

"I didn't lie." Harry began hotly, but the amused hisses from the snakes stopped him.

"Because he is a Gryffindor." Shiakana whispered. "A true Gryffindor. He withdrew Godric's sword, remember? It would shame his honour to lie."

"Gryffindor's ideology means nothing. Would this boy not lie if it meant an innocent survives? Would Gryffindor not have lied? Would you not, Harry Potter?"

"I don't know." Harry said awkwardly, and truthfully. "I guess I probably would."

"See!" Shiakana hissed triumphantly. "He does not lie, even when it would help him."

Harry's head hurt from trying to follow their logic, but he started to get the feeling that it didn't particularly matter what he said, these two snakes would find ways to support their own arguments.

"Hear this, Potter." Shiakana said. "The Great Salazar Slytherin did research the Old ways. We know of no finished Scrivenings of his, however, simply half completed notes. But there is nothing in here, or we would know."

"Can we check, anyway?" Harry asked.

Kaen hissed angrily, but Shiakana stayed silent. Then, slowly, she unwound from her position, and her portion of the wall started to slowly open with a cracking sound.

"You have betrayed Salazar!" Kaen told her.

"I do not believe so. You can stay there, and guard your half, or you can come with me."

And, with another angry hiss, the second half of the door opened.

"Well done Harry!" Dumbledore said quietly. "Very well done indeed."

"I'm not sure I actually did that much." Harry said honestly.

"Regardless of your feelings, if you were not here, we would have been unable to go any further." Dumbledore reminded him.

Snape made a sound of disgust, and walked through the revealed doorway. Harry saw him stop, and gaze around him, before continuing inside.

"Professor," Harry said, before he and Dumbledore entered, "what did Professor Snape mean about Slytherin's familiars?"

"Each of the other founders had objects they charmed to take the appearance of life, to have a mind of their own, Harry. Godric Gryffindor's, was, of course, his hat, the Sorting Hat, as it now is. Rowena Ravenclaw's quill is now the keeper of the Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries: it is her familiar that decides what each Prophecy refers to. Helga Hufflepuff's familiar, her staff, has been passed on to the Healer in charge of St Mungo's for centuries now. Whether Salazar had one was unknown until now."

"Oh." Harry could think of nothing else to say, so walked through into the cavern where he had fought Tom Riddle.

The air was remarkably pure, and the cavern itself remarkably empty of wildlife. Harry had expected to see a horde of rats, without the Basilisk to quell their population, but the whole room was empty. He and Dumbledore walked forward to where Snape was standing – in front of what remained of the basilisk. It appeared that rats had at least been here once upon a time, for they had obviously had their revenge. All that was left of the basilisk was a brilliantly green, but nibbled, skin, and a collection of bones. Nature had removed the rest. Snape was examining the remains, and removing samples, and placing them into a bag.

"A potion brewer's dream." Dumbledore observed. "I would imagine you are one of but a few people to have the chance to discover the traits of these potion ingredients, Severus."

"And one of a few people with the ability to use them to their potential." Snape replied, eyes glittering.

"What are we looking for, exactly, sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"Anything that looks remotely unusual." Dumbledore replied. "I fear it is too much to hope that there will be carvings on the wall detailing the Scrivenings of Slytherin, especially given the Guardians' declarations, but there may be something that gives us a clue as to how to proceed. Voldemort obviously thought there to be something of value here, that might aid his search, and it is our job to discover what that might be."

Dumbledore again provided illumination, lighting up the dimly lit chamber brilliantly, showing the tall pillars stretch upwards as if for ever, and shining on the snakes that adorned the pillars, just as Kaen and Shiakana had decorated the door. Unlike those two snakes, however, these ones didn't seem to move. Harry went left, Dumbledore went right, and Snape, once he had finished with the carcass of the basilisk, began to examine the base of Slytherin's statue, and the pillars.

Harry soon tired of the tedious job of looking for something and yet not knowing what it looked like. The walls were carved with long, almost snakelike lines, but if they were a language, Harry hadn't got a clue what they said. They looked more like patterns than words, but he dutifully followed them along the wall, looking for something that might somehow appear unusual. Now and then, he heard wordless hisses, as if his every move was being watched by the lifeless snake carvings.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to follow the wall back to Slytherin's statue again, it felt like forever, but as he slumped down against the legs of the statue he noticed Dumbledore only seemed to be a quarter of the way along his side, feeling the walls carefully, and casting spells of some kind in an effort to discover something. Harry half wondered if there was any point in his being there except to speak to the snakes.

He tried desperately to remember his only other visit to the Chamber of Secrets, and any information that might have helped, but all he could really remember was worry for Ginny, and then a desperate struggle for both of their lives. He lost himself deep in thought, before a sound made him look up. Snape must have said something condemnatory, for he was sneering at Harry in a disapproving fashion.

He stood up again in order to turn his back towards Snape, and stared at the statue. The snake had come out of the mouth, hadn't it? Harry stared at a nearby pillar, examining the glittering eyes of the snake there, and then looked back to the statue.

"Open up." He hissed.

Nothing happened. He looked back at the snake, which promptly moved, and opened its mouth.

"Come now, Gryffindor. You heard Slytherin's heir open the statue; surely you can remember the words." It was Kaen.

"Speak to me Slytherin-" Harry muttered, and then stopped.

"Greatest of the Hogwarts Four." Kaen completed for him, and the statue's mouth started to widen.

"If Slytherin was so great, why did he need people to tell him that?" Harry asked irritably; Kaen got on his nerves.

A sound of amusement came from the pillar on the other side of Harry. It was Shiakana. They seemed to have followed Harry.

"That sounds like something Godric would have said." Shiakana said, amused.

"What do you mean?"

"He always used to tell Salazar Slytherin that he was too full of himself. Of course, he was the only wizard that approached Salazar's ability, that's why they were attracted to each other as friends." Shiakana explained.

"Friends?" Harry said, surprised.

"Of course." Kaen sneered, sounding almost like Snape. "You don't think either Salazar or Gryffindor would have worked together if they didn't like each other, do you? What rubbish has that Hat been telling you?"

"The Sorting Hat?" Harry asked.

"Who else? Gryffindor made it so that he could select the best students for his house. Luckily, his instincts when it came to choosing his students were poor."

"I suppose the Hat did say they were friends before Slytherin turned on him." Harry said bluntly.

"Turned on him?" Shiakana hissed angrily.

"Never could trust that Hat." Kaen said. "It was Gryffindor's policy of letting anyone in, no matter their background, which made them enemies."

"What, so it's Godric Gryffindor's fault because he didn't want to kill all the Muggleborns?" Harry challenged.

"Salazar Slytherin wanted to save the school, and wizards in Britain from Gryffindor's naivety, it was because of Godric's pigheadedness that he nurtured the Basilisk, and hid it here. Salazar didn't want to kill anybody." Kaen replied.

"If Slytherin was so blameless, then why did he use Dark Magic and Dark Creatures to try and kill the Muggleborns?" Harry asked mockingly.

Both snakes hissed in angry unease.

"Dark Magic?" Shiakana scoffed. "And do you call it Dark Magic if it saves the Wizarding World from destruction? And do you call Gryffindor's magic Light, if it dooms us all?"

The sentence stopped Harry dead. "What did you say?"

Shiakana repeated herself. "Why?" She demanded as she finished.

"My Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher said something similar." Harry hissed, half to himself.

"He is a Slytherin?" Shiakana asked.

"I dunno." Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

"Why is Snape Head of Slytherin then, if this other teacher knows more of Slytherin's philosophies?" Kaen hissed angrily.

Harry got the impression he didn't like the Potions' teacher. It was a bit strange, because Harry was pretty sure he didn't like either of them for very similar reasons. Kaen seemed to be just as arrogant, just as cocky, just… as much of a _git_, as Snape.

"Scala." Snape hissed – in English – jerking Harry's attention from the two snakes.

"Are you not going to bother searching, Potter? Do you think your job is simply to open up doors protected by Parseltongue?" Snape snarled, before stepping onto the ladder he had just created and causing it to rise by magic, curling up neatly at the top of Slytherin's bottom lip.

Harry got up unwillingly, to return to his seemingly pointless examination of the walls.

* * *

_A/N: As I've been asked about it in reviews, here's the correct pronunciation of Kaen and Shiakana._

_Kaen is pronounced: 'kay' 'en' - simple enough I guess. Shiakana is pronounced: 'she' 'a' (as in that) 'car' 'na'._


	20. A Question of Trust

**Chapter 20: A Question of Trust **

"And how did Professor Dumbledore leave it?" Remus asked, his haggard face looking at Harry intently from the other side of the two way mirror.

Harry shrugged. "He didn't seem surprised that we didn't really find anything much, and said that we had enough to go on with for the moment. I'm not exactly sure what though, there wasn't anything useful there at all. Just a load of carved snakes, and the remains of the Basilisk. He said we'll have another go in a few days though."

"Dumbledore could quite likely have found something that you, or Snape did not." Remus told him. "Perhaps he needs to do some more research, or will re-examine it in his Pensieve later. I suppose those two snakes you talked to didn't give you any help, did they?"

"Kaen and Shiakana? They disappeared again. Professor Dumbledore wanted me to talk to them again before we left, but they didn't come out. I think they were spying on us from the pillars. But neither of them know anything about any Scrivenings of Slytherin, they said they didn't exist, remember? And Voldemort can't have wanted to talk to them, Wormtail can't speak Parseltongue."

"True. But they could still offer some help without realizing it. Give us a lead to go on perhaps. But anyway, it was lucky you saw Wormtail on the map, Harry."

Harry paused. "So, you don't believe that Snape was just making sure he stayed out of trouble, either?"

It was Moony's turn to hesitate now. Harry had noticed that while Remus tried to give Snape the benefit of the doubt, and show Harry that he believed Dumbledore, now and then he made little lapses which betrayed his actual regard for the Slytherin. Harry didn't understand why he didn't just come straight out and admit it to Harry – he felt the same way – but Moony seemed determined not to.

"It's more that… because of you, not only did Wormtail fail to find whatever it was Lord Voldemort wanted him to, but we discovered his intent regardless. So you were lucky enough to see him on the map, then?"

"Not exactly." Harry admitted. "The Peter Pettigrew on the map actually told me."

Moony's face contorted, as emotions fought their way on to the surface. He stayed completely silent for a long couple of seconds, before shaking his head. "I think I told you before, Harry, that this Wormtail might not yet have been a traitor. Of course, that doesn't mean he wasn't always destined to become one," he added darkly.

"Yeah, I know." Harry said. "But you guys said you can keep him under control if he was to become a traitor. Well, the Moony, Padfoot and Prongs on the map, anyway."

"Peter would have seen them write that," Moony said softly. "We were his only friends, and on the map we turned against him. Could we have…" He trailed off.

"It's not your fault," Harry said sharply. "You didn't make him betray us."

There was a pause, where both of them seemed to become lost in thought as to how Harry, James, Lily, and, indirectly, Sirius, had been betrayed. It was a train of thought Harry had been down many times before, and had never found particularly pleasant. The fact that Wormtail had done something that was to Harry's advantage – and could only have been meant that way – just made it more confusing. Maybe he was just doing it to try to gain Harry's, or even regain the rest of the Marauders', trust.

"Remus?" Harry asked, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. "What do you know about Professor Aravenne?"

"Not much. Why?"

"Well, he offered to give me lessons in wandless magic a couple of days ago."

Moony's eyes narrowed slightly, and Harry could sense his suspicion. "And why did he do that?"

"Well, I, er, kinda did some accidental magic to Malfoy." Harry admitted. "Like I did with Kreacher." He spat, anger still building up inside him towards the elf. "He gave me detention for using my real wand in a duel, but asked me to learn wandless magic instead."

"So you told him you didn't use your wand, and he believed you?" Moony queried. "Or-"

"No, he knew I hadn't used my wand, but he didn't think I'd want everyone else to know, so gave me that detention."

"I see." Remus said, nodding, but still sounding suspicious, perhaps even protective. "Well, all I can tell you is that Professor Dumbledore trusts him, and almost all of the teachers seem to like him, despite the fact Professor Snape doesn't trust him at all."

"Really?" Harry asked in interest. "That's a point in Aravenne's favour then!"

Remus did not look impressed. "Harry, this isn't the time to joke."

"Who said anything about joking? I find it comforting that Snape doesn't like him." Harry retorted.

"Professor Snape doesn't trust many people, Harry, and seeing as he seems to regard Aravenne as a Roamer, despite his having lived in a steady address in New York for about fourteen years, it is not surprising that he does not trust him. Roamers are often distrusted, I might even say _usually_ distrusted, by wizards and witches."

"What's a Roamer?" Harry asked. Despite having lived in the Magical world for over five years now, there were still many terms he did not know – and, unlike Hermione, had not troubled to read up about.

"Someone who moves about from country to country, with no real established home, and no real past. Often, especially centuries ago, they were, and still are, associated with thieving, plundering, the spread of disease, causing infidelity, you name it. Wizards, especially Pureblood wizards, are generally a bit of a xenophobic bunch. It is very hard to understand why someone might want to move around the world, if you are content to simply remain in your own secluded plot of land."

"And Snape thinks Aravenne is one?"

"As far as I can gather, he does. No-one really knows much about what Aravenne did, or where he was, before he took up the Defensive Magic post in America. From what I can tell, he has politely refused to talk about what he did before then. Dumbledore seems quite happy not to pry any further, as are the teachers – other than Snape of course. Mad-Eye Moody wasn't very impressed with Dumbledore, I can tell you, appointing a man without knowing his past."

"So you think he could be working for Voldemort or something then?" Harry asked nervously.

"I doubt it. The name Syde Aravenne is synonymous in America with the production of their equivalent of our Aurors. Ever since he took the job, the New York Seminary saw a large increase in the proportion of Muggleborns, or Half-bloods who bolstered their Aurors' ranks. The acceptance rate of students wishing and able to enter law enforcement over there from his school also soared rather once he took the post."

"So how did Dumbledore get him here then?" Harry asked. "If he was such a success there, why'd he want to leave?"

"He didn't do anything. It was Aravenne himself that applied for the job; Dumbledore didn't offer it to him. And no-one knows why he left, or what he did before he taught there. It's very strange, but Dumbledore seems satisfied."

"Well he was born here, and then travelled across the world before he went to America." Harry told him.

"How-" Remus began.

"Well, that's what he said, anyway." Harry shrugged. "And he has a load of weird stuff in his room, a Re'em hide, I think he said it was, and the skin of something else too. And he said he's been to Asia and Africa too."

Remus half shook his head in mild amazement. "I think that's more information about his past pre-America than the entire teaching staff managed to find out about him. I don't suppose he told you when he left here to travel the world, did he?" He asked jokingly.

Harry thought. "Well, he said that Voldemort was one of the reasons he left, if that helps. But I don't believe some of things he said, so I don't know if that's true or not. I mean, I don't know if any of it's true; he said he went to Hogwarts, but Hermione checked, and he didn't."

Remus chuckled. "It sounds to me like you have a better idea of him than I do. Well, my advice would be to trust your own judgment. If, like Dumbledore, you feel you can trust him, I suggest that you take the classes. If you were to learn how to become a Virgaemin, well that would certainly be something no -one would expect of you. But take my word for it – it isn't an easy thing to learn."

Harry nodded. "Thanks Moony. I guess I have already been in the same room as him on my own for half an hour, and he didn't try to kill me once, so that's probably another plus point for him too."

Remus chuckled again, before asking. "Do you like him?"

"I dunno." Harry replied. "I think I might, if I weren't expecting him to try to do something to me like all the other Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers."

Remus raised his eyebrows, and grinned.

"Except you, Moony, of course." Harry added quickly. "I mean, some of the things he does and says… It's just, well, put it this way, one of the snakes in the Chamber of Secrets said something almost identical to something he said about magic."

Remus laughed again. "Harry, not all Slytherins are bad people. Tonks' mother was a Slytherin, you know, and she ended up marrying a Muggle, and raised Tonks pretty well, now, didn't she?"

"Yeah, well, maybe. I guess Shiakana seemed like she might be okay. Even though Kaen was an absolute – er – jerk. But you taught my year, how many of Malfoy's gang would you tell me to trust?"

Remus expression was almost reproachful. "You know quite as well as I do, Harry, that not all the Slytherins like Draco Malfoy, or for that matter are like him. I would have thought you of all people would refuse to make sweeping judgements about people like others have done about you."

"As the stark raving mad loony, you mean." Harry finished.

"Exactly. Look how everyone, including me, assumed Sirius was a Death Eater because he hunted down a friend of your parents after the attack."

They were back on the subject of Peter's betrayal. "Yeah." Harry said, before trying to change the subject again. "Remus – the Minister was at the thing I had to go to about Sirius."

"Really? I imagine he wanted to apologise for last year did he?"

"Yeah, well not just that. He… Well, he said that if Sirius was found innocent, he wanted to give him the Order of Merlin First Class, as a kind of apology to his memory or something. And for the work that he continued to do against Voldemort even after his escape from Azkaban."

"So Sirius is to be honoured by the Ministry of Magic?" Remus said, amused.

"Well, not exactly. He said he'd only do it if I thought he'd want it, seeing as I'm his Godson, and his family that are alive weren't close to him – or in other words, are Death Eaters."

"And what did you say?" Remus said with a grin.

"Well I was tempted to tell him to 'eff off." Harry admitted. "I mean, Sirius always said he wasn't sure if he'd ever accept an apology from them, didn't he? But I just said I'd think about it."

"Yes, Sirius probably would have told them to 'eff off', himself." Remus agreed, sounding as if he was finding the whole thing rather funny. "But then, Sirius had to always look like he didn't care about what people thought of him, even, or rather, especially, in Hogwarts. It was one of the ways he was cool. And it worked – well, to some extent – he certainly had a way with some of the ladies. Although James always used to say the reason he didn't get any steady relationship was down to the same thing."

"So you think I should refuse it for Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Well, _he_ might have out of 'principle'. But then again, he would also have wanted the world to know that he was being offered it in the first place. There was little Sirius hated more than being thought of as the same kind of person as his family."

"What do you think I should do then?"

Remus' smile faded. "Well, if you don't agree to it, I wouldn't be surprised to see a small paragraph appear in the Daily Prophet somewhere, about how Sirius Black was found innocent. With the kind of thing that has been reported recently, it wouldn't take much effort to hush it up. If you do agree, then the whole world will know about it."

That was certainly true; although Voldemort's attacks had become less frequent since the Hogsmeade Weekend, there were enough deaths of 'important' (and not so 'important') people for the Daily Prophet to exploit for months on its front page. And that was without all the other attacks that didn't result in, or weren't intended to cause, more deaths. Even Diagon Alley wasn't safe anymore, despite its priority for Ministry Aurors, with many of the less well known shops (or perhaps less well _protected_) being decimated.

"So what would you do, then?" Harry pressed.

"Me?" Remus sighed. "I don't care if Sirius wanted to look like he didn't mind what people thought of him. I want every damn person in Britain to know how he stood by your parents, how he fought against Voldemort, how the reason he broke out of Azkaban was to protect you from Voldemort, and how he then spent the rest of his life working against Death Eaters and the scum they represent."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

_We told you, Harry, _Prongs wrote triumphantly, _Wormtail's one of us. _

_Yeah, great spot, Wormtail. _Padfoot added.

"I- um- Yeah, thanks. But you see that the Wormtail around now isn't… er… well, is working against us, yeah?"

_I guess… What was Snivellus doing there?_ Prongs asked. _You went up to Dumbledore's office with him, what did he say? _

"Dumbledore still trusts him." Harry said bitterly. "Voldemort wanted Snape to make sure Peter Pettigrew got into the castle, and Dumbledore wanted Snape to follow him and tell him why. But because of you guys, I stopped him finding what he wanted, and he ran away. And we worked out why he was there anyway."

_Don't thank us._ Moony wrote. _Thank Peter._

"Y- yeah. Th- thanks, Wormtail." Harry said, stumbling over the words a little. He never thought he'd ever say those words.

_I said I wasn't a traitor._ Wormtail's untidy writing replied.

_Yeah, well, you've proved it now mate. Hasn't he Harry? _Prongs wrote.

"Well, yeah, I guess." Harry said. "But, Prongs, I… Well, the first time I met Peter Pettigrew, I learned that he was the reason my parents died, and I got sent to live with the Dursleys. So you know why I find it hard to trust you Wormtail…"

_Yes, which of us was the one that got sent to Azkaban?_ Moony asked. _You never told us. I take it he's out again now, seeing as Padfoot died in the Ministry, and you and I apparently talk._

_Gee, thanks Moony! But anyway, why didn't the other one of us look after you? _Padfoot demanded.

"Er." Harry said. He hadn't told them because he knew just how much the real life Moony berated himself about not looking after Harry. "Well. He had really good reasons not to find me. And there were some protective charms Dumbledore cast that needed me to live with my blood relations. But it was you that went to Azkaban, Padfoot."

_And it was me that abandoned you._ Moony completed.

"No!" Harry said quickly. "The real life Moony had really good reasons, like I said. He couldn't have done anything. Trust me."

_Oh well,_ Padfoot scribbled, _good thing we made the most of our lives in Hogwarts, wasn't it Prongs? _

_Yeah... And I married Lily... _Prongs wrote, and Harry could almost see the dreaminess in his writing.

_Oh brother…Moving swiftly on. _Padfoot continued._ Where did you go last night, Harry? One minute you were on the map, next you were gone. _

"That's the way into the Chamber of Secrets." Harry explained.

_You mean you found a secret passage we didn't? Ha ha! That's my boy! Like father like son, eh Padfoot? _

_That's the bathroom that whinging ghost haunts, isn't it? Millie, or something. She wouldn't shut up when we mapped it. I don't get why she decided to bloody well stay on if she hates life, and is that miserable all the time,_ Padfoot wrote. _Not surprising we didn't find it in there; I just wanted to get out of there and get some peace and quiet!_

Harry felt a stab of annoyance. "Myrtle's okay, she just got used to everybody treating her like dirt, and bullying her all the time."

_Yeah well, of course she will if she mopes around all the time. _Prongs wrote dismissively.

Harry felt a jab of irritation towards his father this time. Maybe some people just didn't understand what it felt like to not have a friend, and be the person that was picked on all the time. Harry did. He had grown up with nothing else. But then again, maybe James and Sirius did realise it a few years after writing the map. Just not now.

"She's fine." Harry said. "She's keeping an eye out for any intruders trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets for us."

_Maybe she's better now than she was. _Padfoot scribbled.

_Maybe. _Moony wrote. _Of course, she might be just the same, and you never thought that she might have feelings._

_What's that supposed to mean?_ Prongs demanded.

"You wouldn't have found it anyway." Harry said quickly, before an argument could start. "The Chamber of Secrets, I mean."

_Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?_

"Because you need to be able to speak Parseltongue to open it." Harry had the insanely childish urge to stick his tongue out. Not that they could have seen it anyway.

_Oh. So only Dark Wizards can enter I suppose, _Padfoot said.

"Hey!"

_What? _

"I can speak Parseltongue," Harry told them.

_Er… Oh. _

_Of course, _Moony wrote, _just because someone can talk to snakes doesn't mean that they have to be a Dark Wizard._

"Thanks Moony." Harry said, grinning.

_What's it like?_ Wormtail asked.

"Er, well-" Harry began.

_Hang on, before Wormtail wets himself from awe, can you get back in there Harry? _Prongs asked.

"Yeah. I'll be going back in there with Professor Dumbledore and Snivellus anyway."

_No, this would be on your own. How do you fancy adding the Chamber of Secrets to the Marauders' Map? _

_We'll tell you how to do it._ Padfoot said. _But you'll need to have at least one other person with you. Is there anyone you can trust enough? And they'd have to be a pretty good wizard –some of the things can get complicated. _

"Well, I guess I could ask Hermione." Harry said.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So, how do you two feel about a trip into the Chamber of Secrets at some point?" Harry asked Hermione and Ron quietly as he sat down beside them at the nearly deserted Gryffindor table, breakfast Saturday morning.

Ron looked at him as if he was insane. "Yes Harry, I'd love to do that mate," he said sarcastically. "I got far enough in the last time, and if you dare ask Ginny, I swear I'll… I'll start raiding Fred and George's unfinished products."

"Don't be stupid, of course I'm not going to ask Ginny. Not after everything that happened to her there."

Hermione made a rather noncommittal, dubious noise.

"What?" Harry demanded.

She shook her head. "Why do you want us to go down there, Harry?"

"It's an idea I got from the Marauders' Map." Harry explained. "Well, their idea really. They want me to put the Chamber of Secrets on the Map, only we need at least two people down there to do it, they said."

"Now that's an idea!" Ron said appreciatively. "That way we'll know if anyone tries to get in it or not."

"Well, only if they are in it when I'm looking at the Map, Ron."

"You didn't see Peter Pettigrew, did you?" Ron reminded him.

"You don't need to try and persuade me Ron, I'm all for it, remember? So you'll do it, will you?"

Ron paused. "Well, I don't know." He said doubtfully.

"I'll do it Harry." Hermione said crisply. "I always wondered how they made the Marauder's Map."

"Here's your chance to find out then!"

"I guess I will too." Ron said finally. "So when do we go?"

"Some time when people won't miss us, I guess."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Mr Potter, if you could stay behind a while, please." Aravenne asked, just as Harry reached the door, and a large group of awed first years who had been passing the duelling room looked in at him.

Harry stepped away, and out of sight, as the rest of the class filed out. He saw Aravenne slightly raise his right eyebrow, as Harry sought for a place that meant as few first years as possible could stare at him.

Aravenne walked over to the door, and closed it softly as Sally-Ann Perks left the room last. He had a grin on his face as he turned to Harry.

"Being somebody's hero isn't something you should have to shy away from. Try to think of it as a… compliment, rather than a curse of some sort."

"I'm not their hero." Harry said flatly. "Their hero is some imaginary person; they haven't a clue about who I am."

"Perhaps." Aravenne said, summoning one of the chests Harry had seen in his office to him from a recess Harry hadn't seen, and making a complicated wand motion at one of the arenas.

"I should imagine they think of you," he began thoughtfully, "as a person who has defeated You-Know-Who on more than one occasion, a person who has escaped from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters, also on more than one occasion and a person who won the Tri-Wizard tournament, even when up against older students, who supposedly knew more magic. And also a person who is spoken of as one of the best Seekers the school has had and someone who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts to his fellow students last year, even to students older than him."

Aravenne looked at Harry in an almost calculating fashion. "Shall I go on? Perhaps I should mention how you stayed true to justice, no matter what was thrown towards you last year?"

"I- well- Yes, I did all that, but not the way they think I did." Harry said irritably. "But – but, what did you want to ask me, sir?"

"I wondered if you had decided whether to accept me as your teacher in wandless magic?" Aravenne asked as he bent over to place the arena in the chest.

"Um… not really. A lot of things have happened the last week."

Aravenne straightened up and nodded. "You shall have to forgive me for pressuring you, but time is rather of the essence."

"Why?" Harry demanded.

"Well, it is possible, if it happens again, that someone could die. Someone less deserving than either of the Death Eaters that died in Hogsmeade."

There he went with the idea that Harry had killed that other Death Eater again. The way Aravenne was talking it sounded like Harry went around killing people by accident. Or by design.

"And if you don't want to take these lessons I wouldn't have a choice except to warn the Ministry. If you were to lose control of your temper, and someone died, then I… I would be just as responsible."

Harry tried hard not to allow the expression on his face fall. He wasn't particularly worried about Dumbledore finding out, except it might suggest to Dumbledore that he had done the right thing in not trusting him with everything from the start. But if the Ministry found out that he was 'regularly' losing control… Well, he didn't trust them… and the Daily Prophet or some other paper would almost certainly find out too. Even after Scrimgeour's supposed reshuffling, the papers were still happily printing leaked information week in, week out.

"I'm not going to _kill _someone." Harry said quickly, and annoyed.

"I'm not saying you'd do it on purpose." Aravenne said sharply. "The duel last week, however, was not the first time you did accidental magic, was it? This isn't an isolated incident."

"Well-"

"I must admit I heard of an incident in the Ministry over the summer. They treated it as a one off because of extenuating circumstances from what I can gather."

"I- How do you know about that?" Harry asked in disbelief. The trial was as private as possible; okay, Harry's wandless magic hadn't taken place in the trial, but still...

"I have learnt to keep my ears open. The Hogwarts portraits have also talked about an incident involving Peeves the Poltergeist."

"Yeah, but still, that's not _that_ often, is it?" Harry said, a little flustered.

"I wonder, Harry, if you would mind explaining the accident that killed the Death Eater who was attacking you in Hogsmeade. Not Lestrange – the other."

"Why?"

Aravenne paused. "Just a theory I have, that is all."

_Well, it could hardly hurt, could it?_ Harry told himself, and began with a shrug.

"Er, well, we were duelling. I ran up the staircase, and he sent curses at me at random through the stairs, from below me. I got to the top of them, and they kind of shook. Then, just as I had the idea to destroy them so he couldn't get up to me without being an easy target, he put the full body-bind on me. As he came up the stairs towards me, the stairs collapsed, and I was able to move again, well, sort of, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Aravenne prompted.

"Well, I could move, just really slowly and awkwardly. I got my wand, got rid of the curse, and looked over the edge to see him lying dead on the floor."

Aravenne nodded. "Were your emotions high at the time?"

"Of course they were," Harry said, wondering if Aravenne was serious. "I thought I was going to die, didn't I?"

"What would you say… if I suggested that it was you that caused the stairs to collapse, sending the Death Eater to his doom?"

Harry stared at the teacher, but said nothing for a long time. "How? I was in the full body-bind, remember?"

"Wandless magic," Aravenne said, staring at Harry all the time. "You had already been thinking of destroying the stairs, you just hadn't been able to do it, and as soon as he reached you, you would surely have died. So, like with Draco Malfoy last week, your emotions took over, and destroyed the stairs. Then again, you managed to move, despite the full body-bind, did you not? Again, consider that that may have also have been wandless magic."

Harry's blood ran cold. Aravenne's suggestion made too much sense for his liking. He shook his head unconvincingly.

"Not that that is a bad thing by any means in this instance." Aravenne said hurriedly, seeing the expression on Harry's face. "Just like Lestrange, it is safe to say it is a good thing that Leonard Caulfield is no longer with us – if only because it means that you are. Speaking of Lestrange, have you considered the possibility that the shield you conjured, and yet can't remember, may again have been wandless magic?"

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "That wasn't wandless magic." _But the other man's death might have been._

"If we are to have these lessons, Harry," Aravenne began once more, but looking unconvinced by Harry's denial, "we should begin them as soon as possible. We shall not be able to fit many of them in before Christmas, and the more you have, the more likely you will be able to control any wandless magic you may do."

"I'll tell you by the end of the week at the latest." Harry promised.

Aravenne looked at him long and hard. "Very well," he said eventually.

Harry turned to go, but another word from Aravenne stopped him.

"Harry. The first years – and many other people – may have the 'how' incorrect about the things you have done, but not the 'what'. They are also right about the honour and justice you have fought to protect. It would not be just yourself you let down, were you to sway from your ideals. Some of the people will follow their hero no matter what, even to places they shouldn't; others would be devastated. Whether you want it or not, you have a great deal of responsibility on your shoulders."

Harry pondered these words as he left the room. Aravenne was worried about _Harry_ being, or becoming, a Dark Wizard?

He was starting to wonder if it would only make sense to take the wandless magic lessons. If he really had killed that Death Eater with accidental magic, what was to say he wouldn't do that to someone else? Someone, perhaps, that was a friend, or a member of the Order? Or else, in the case of Snape, someone he'd love to see dead, but that might cause him to lose his temper in a situation that wasn't self-defence. He almost asked Dumbledore his opinion in his Occlumency lesson on Wednesday night. Almost, but not quite.

He had a shrewd idea of what Dumbledore's answer would be, even if he did pose the question. It would be that the decision was his to make, not Dumbledore's. He obviously trusted Aravenne himself, or he wouldn't have appointed him to the post. And Harry wasn't particularly willing to admit his failure to control himself. His conversation with Remus did however prevail upon him to take Dumbledore aside about something else.

"Sir?" He began. "When Minister Scrimgeour wanted to talk to me after you asked me all those questions about Sirius, he wanted to know if I'd accept an Order of Merlin for Sirius, if he was found innocent."

"I see." Dumbledore said, remaining impassive, as if he didn't want to impact Harry's decision whatsoever.

"It's going to be a big event, isn't it?" Harry asked. "If I say yes, I mean."

"Undoubtedly, Harry. As I am sure you have decided yourself, after the enmity between you and the Ministry over the last year or more, the Minister would want to make sure the whole of Britain knew of any show of unity between you and the establishment."

"I was thinking…" Harry began. "I was thinking I'd do it, as long as I don't have to say anything, anyway. But I don't know how I'm meant to tell him. I mean, I can't really owl the Minister for Magic, can I?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring smile. "You need not concern yourself with that, Harry. I shall tell him myself, when I discuss security arrangements with him."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The first chance Harry had to explore the Chamber of Secrets on his own, or rather with his friends, was the Thursday of that week, and, seeing as Gryffindor had a Quidditch practice, only Harry and Hermione entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom that night. Ron didn't seem that disappointed.

"Oh, Harry!" Myrtle said happily. "Hi!"

"Er- Hi Myrtle." Harry said, a little warily in truth.

Myrtle pouted. "What's she doing here?" She pointed at Hermione.

"Well, it is a girls' bathroom." Harry pointed out, with a grin.

Myrtle burst into tears, and shrieked her way into a toilet bowl.

"Everyone's always making fun of me." The ghost sobbed from the far side of the room.

"Myrtle, Harry didn't mean it like that." Hermione said patiently. "He just meant that I probably have more right to be here than him, that's all."

"But I asked him to come see me." Myrtle sobbed. "I didn't ask you, did I?"

"Myrtle, I didn't want to upset you-" Harry began.

"Yeah right." She sniffed unhappily.

"Look, Myrtle, the two of us are going to have a look around the Chamber of Secrets-" Harry began to a fresh wail of tears from the ghost.

"Do you want to come with us?" Hermione asked.

"No- I'd- I'd just get in your way, wouldn't I?" Myrtle cried.

There was a loud gurgle, as she fled down the pipes.

"What?" Harry asked in incomprehension.

Hermione looked hard pressed to stop herself from giggling. "You do know she has a crush on you, don't you Harry?"

"Yes, well, you weren't there when she invited me to share her toilet if I died." Harry said, going red.

Hermione did this time snort with laughter.

"I don't get it." Harry continued. "Why do all the girls in this school seem to think we're an item? I mean, isn't it obvious? And anyway – the Chamber of Secrets wouldn't be my idea of a romantic occasion."

"So I'm not good enough for you, Harry?" Hermione said with an affronted look.

"No! That's not what I mean! But-!" Harry said in indignation. "But I mean, if I- Well- We're friends, right? And if I- if we wanted-" He went furiously red. "Well, I mean, I'd have asked you wouldn't I? Or you'd have said something!"

"Oh, I don't know." Hermione said. "After all, it took you and Ron until fourth year to figure out I was a girl, didn't it?"

Harry was speechless, but rather opened and closed his mouth a bit like a fish.

Hermione burst out laughing again. "It's okay Harry, don't worry. It was just rather fun watching you squirm," she said, with a glint in her eye. "I feel the same way about you, honestly. Friends. Anyway, I'm not the right woman for you, am I? Not with a certain other person about."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said in amazement. "Look, you can't be talking about Cho, I told you, there is no way I'm getting back with her. I don't think I could put up with all the waterworks."

"Not Cho, no." Hermione said, with a knowing look in her eyes.

Harry just stared at her, and then gave up. He decided to take a line from Ron's vocabulary and shook his head. "Barking. Completely Barking."

"Oh Harry, you can fight Voldemort, Dragons, Death Eaters, and everything else, but you still can't cope with love, can you?" Hermione was still giggling when Harry opened the sink.

"Right." Harry said firmly, hoping to bring an end to the conversation. "Oh, wait. Hang on. Altecutis." He said, pointing his wand at himself.

He was relieved to feel the thin coating of film cover him, and repeated the spell for Hermione.

"It's to stop us getting covered in muck." He explained.

"Good thinking." Hermione said, approvingly.

"Just enjoy the ride." Harry grinned, and jumped into the hole with a loud whoop.

Hermione landed rather inelegantly on the slimy floor, and gave a slightly shaky laugh. "That reminds me of a funfair my parents took me to when I was seven."

She stood up, and withdrew her wand. "Effundo."

The film covering her fell off. Harry just shrugged, and repeated the spell for himself. Catching Hermione out with a spell, even one he had learned from Dumbledore, was not an easy business.

"How do we get back up again?" She questioned, looking in to the darkness of the pipe.

Harry let out a hiss, and a ladder appeared in the middle of the pipe. He made a show of pushing down on it. It didn't move.

"I just have to say a few magic words." He grinned. "Slytherin seems to have thought of most things."

It had been Snape who had suggested that Salazar would have an easy way of exiting the Chamber, but Harry wasn't going to tell Hermione that.

Dumbledore's 'lights' in the ceiling had faded away, so Harry and Hermione progressed with their wands lit. He had already agreed with the map to chart the passage last. It required one of them to be at either end of it, so it only made sense.

"You are back again." Shiakana hissed as they approached, before first Kaen, and then she, reared up in anger.

"You have brought a Muggleborn with you!" Kaen's hiss was almost deafening. "How dare you!"

Harry glared at the two of them. "So wh-"

He stopped. That second, Harry felt a slight prickle in his head, and before he knew it, was using one of his Occlumency techniques. He wrenched his head sideways.

"Hermione, don't make eye-contact with them." He said furiously, putting his body between her and the carved snakes. "They can do Legilimency. They might even be able to possess you."

His mind remembered the agony that Voldemort had put him through in the Ministry of Magic, because of his attempt to possess Harry's body. How dare those two snakes attempt to put Hermione through that kind of pain? A loud bang came from behind them and to Harry's right. A crack was slowly forming from ceiling to the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione said anxiously, making Harry vaguely aware of the electricity in the air and the heaviness in his breathing.

"You have power." Kaen said angrily, but with new respect in his voice.

Hermione, however, was working slowly, but efficiently, to close the fracture that had formed.

"So what if Hermione's Muggleborn?" He hissed venomously. "Who cares? She's the best witch in the year. Top of everything."

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione said in a quiet, slightly strained voice.

"They somehow know your parents are Muggles." He replied in English, fury in every syllable. "And… well, they're Slytherins, aren't they?"

"This Chamber was made by the great Salazar Slytherin himself to protect this school against Muggleborns, and you dare to bring one here?" Shiakana hissed angrily.

_Scratch the 'Shiakana seemed okay'_, Harry thought bitterly.

"So what if she is a Muggleborn?" Harry demanded again. "You don't really think that the Wizarding race wouldn't have become inbred or something if it weren't for marrying Muggles or Muggleborns, do you? And what about the witches and wizards that aren't trained, and then have witch or wizard children? How long until they become purebloods?"

This statement seemed to produce nothing but fury from Salazar's two familiars. The two of them started to circle the doorway menacingly, although Harry noticed that they did not attempt to invade his mind again, nor Hermione's, who was keeping her eyes firmly away from the gleaming emeralds of the snakes. She looked more than a little confused, but then, it was hard for Harry to keep translating at the moment.

"It is not her; it is what she is, where she comes from. Surely you must see that." Kaen said eventually.

"No. What exactly is so bad about having a Muggle for a parent?" Harry spat.

"They hate us!" Shiakana said in what sounded like disbelief. "They have been trying to wipe us out for centuries – ever since their religions made us start to live apart. Even Gryffindor admitted that. The only reason they would allow Muggleborn wizards to live is to use them against us."

Harry looked at Hermione in confusion. "What?" he said in English.

"What?" She repeated.

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. It's just… Shiakana just said that the reason they hate Muggleborns is that any Muggle would try to kill a witch or a wizard."

"They-" Hermione began, but Harry turned back to the snakes.

"Shiakana, what are you talking about? Muggles don't want to kill us… and so what if they did, they can't can they? I mean we can just use magic!"

"Even ants, were there enough of them, could kill a dragon." Kaen snapped. "And what can witches or wizards do if they do not know how to control, or use their magic correctly? Why do you think we need schools in the first place?"

"Even one Muggleborn could lead the Muggles to Hogwarts, where they could kill the weakest of our race before they learn to protect themselves. Just one student turned against their own kind could spell our doom," Shiakana said. "Surely you can see that?"

"No… But… If it's as obvious as you say, then why did the other Founders not agree with you?" Harry demanded, but slightly shaken.

He had always assumed that Slytherin's hate was just racial prejudice, or jealousy, or something. He had never thought he might have a reason for it, no matter how wrong it might be.

Kaen slithered off the door, and angry hisses started to fill the corridor from their right side.

"Godric and Hufflepuff claimed that that only increased the need for us to rescue the Muggleborn witches or wizards from them before they were harmed." Shiakana explained, but she seemed more in control of her anger now than before. "Ravenclaw was sympathetic, but did nothing."

"But that doesn't matter!" Harry said wildly, "The Muggles don't even believe we exist now, let alone try to hunt us down!"

"Lies!" Kaen's hisses filled the passageway. "Salazar's heir proved that they have not changed. We saw how they treated him, how lucky he was to escape. Muggles killed Salazar's mother, and they haven't changed."

"Prove it!" Shiakana demanded. "Let us see how the Muggles have treated you."

"No!" Harry said angrily. "My memories are mine. They aren't for anyone else to see."

Kaen hissed mockingly. "So the Muggles are different now, are they?"

_Well the Dursleys weren't._

"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione demanded.

Harry told her, and unlike Harry, the more she heard, the more she seemed to become at ease. It was the not knowing that seemed to have been worrying her.

Finally, Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "So if Slytherin was around today, he probably wouldn't have any problem with Muggleborns."

Harry stared at her. "Yes, well I've told them that, and they're still going off their rockers!"

With a hiss, Shiakana slithered off the door, as Kaen had before her.

"Well, look at it from their point of view," Hermione began, taking the snakes' side, "the witch persecutions were probably at their worst in the six- or seventeenth century, and that was a long time after Hogwarts was founded. It only really started to stop when Muggles began to learn a lot about science."

"Hermione…" Harry began, shaking his head, "are you honestly saying that Slytherin was right to hate Muggleborns? And how come you know all this stuff about witch burnings? I thought they stopped in the fourteenth century or something."

"Of course I'm not agreeing with their policy of killing Muggleborns." Hermione said dismissively. "Don't be stupid. And as for knowing… I listen in class, Harry, and I read. All I'm saying is that yes, some witches or wizards were hunted down by the Muggles. Of course, the real ones usually got away, and it was only the Muggles that were wrongly accused that died."

"So what do I say?" Harry asked. "I have to do something – what if Dumbledore wants to come back down again?"

"We're going to have to persuade them that Muggles don't even think magic exists anymore." Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well I told them that, but the only way they say they might believe me is if they use Legilimency to see what's in my head. I am not going to let them root through my memories. Anyway, if they see the Dursleys they'll probably think it's just as bad as ever."

"If they were to see my memories though…" Hermione began slowly.

"Hermione, that's nuts!" Harry said furiously. "You've no way of stopping them doing whatever they want in your head. Remember what Voldemort did to me? I've spent I don't know how long trying to learn Occlumency, and I still haven't even learnt to hide my memories properly. These are Slytherin's familiars, remember? They don't care about using low down tricks."

"You told me you thought Shiakana was more reasonable…" Hermione said again, almost to herself.

"And I was wrong, wasn't I? I mean, she's just as prejudiced."

"Well, what else are we going to do, then?" Hermione demanded.

Harry made an angry noise from between his teeth, before hissing in Parseltongue. "I know you two are here. Look, you two don't realise how the Muggles have come on. I mean, they can travel through the air themselves now, and they don't need magic for it. They think that the Muggles who saw magic centuries ago were just seeing people who could do things they could do if they only understood how they did it. Or else that the Muggles made it up or something."

Harry's only answer was a hiss of disbelief from one of the two snakes, probably Kaen.

"Look. Is there anyway I can persuade you without you two using Legilimency." Harry asked desperately. "I mean, would you two want someone you didn't trust going through your memories?"

"Show us your memories," Kaen hissed angrily. "You know how to perform Occlumency, do you not? You know that everything we see, you will see also."

"Why do you think I learnt it in the first place?" Harry hissed.

"To stop your enemies from finding out information from your memories," Shiakana hissed from behind him.

Harry turned sharply, but could not make out the shape of a snake on the dark, dank wall.

"Why must we be your enemies?" Shiakana hissed softly, almost seductively.

"Because he is a Muggle lover," Kaen hissed angrily from elsewhere.

"Well, for starters, you hate Muggles." Harry said at the same time.

"Why else?" Shiakana asked. "If you were to convince us that Muggles no longer were a problem, would you then distrust us?"

"Well, I don't generally get on with people who try to invade my mind-" Harry began.

"Harry, what are you saying?" Hermione demanded again.

"Shiakana wants to know if the question of blood is the only reason I don't trust them. So I told her no-"

"Harry, don't put their backs up. Otherwise they definitely won't want to let us into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Well, I just said I don't get on with people that like using Legilimency on me." He told her, before muttering, "Besides, snakes don't have backs… or spines anyway."

"Harry," Hermione said, taking command, and ignoring the flippancy, "ask them to tell us more about Slytherin before we might begin to trust them. Say that we've grown up listening to people say he was a Dark Wizard, so they have to prove us wrong if they want us to trust them."

A few seconds after Harry had translated, Shiakana appeared back on the door once more.

"How do you define Dark Wizard?" She hissed angrily. "He would use dangerous, or unstable magic to defend his race, does that make him Dark?"

"What kind of person was he?" Hermione asked.

"He was a scholar. He spent his days trying to compile information so that wizards would not lose the knowledge they had discovered. History, spells, potions, the Old Magicks, myths, and stories, he wanted to preserve it all. He dreamed of creating a repository for learning that wizards would travel from afar to use. He dreamed of creating a world which Wizardkind could live in, and prosper, unbothered by magical or non-magical beings."

"And if that meant murdering innocent people, then it was fine with him?" Harry said angrily.

"Let me do the talking," Hermione whispered fiercely in his ear.

"He had no wish to kill anyone unless it was necessary. Even when Hogwarts continued to accept Muggleborns, and Salazar was long gone, we stuck to his wishes, and ordered the Basilisk not to look at the Muggleborns directly if he could help it. Did you know that seeing the Basilisk's reflection only causes petrification? He only wished us to scare them away, not kill them.

"But yes, if it meant the salvation of us all, he would kill innocent people. It meant many more innocent people would live." Shiakana concluded savagely.

"Harry, what if they're telling the truth?" Hermione suggested suddenly. "What if the only reason they don't like… people like me… is because they were scared of the Muggles? What if, if Salazar Slytherin was alive today, he wouldn't have any problem with non-purebloods?"

"Who cares Hermione? These two snakes still hate you don't they?"

"Why do you do nothing except let them talk between themselves, Shiakana?" Kaen hissed angrily. "This Harry Potter consorts with Muggleborns, and openly admits he works against Salazar's Heir."

"Blood is not everything, Kaen," Shiakana hissed, and it gave Harry faint hope.

"Where did Salazar go when he left Hogwarts?" Harry asked, at Hermione's prompting.

"We do not know," Shiakana hissed. "He left to continue his work alone."

"Alone?" Hermione asked. "He didn't take any of his students?"

"No. Although boys like Moreau and Antrim wished to go, and girls such as Ara and Talen promised to help him expel the Muggleborns. He wanted them to learn enough to protect themselves, and he would not be able to teach and research at the same time. The other Founders were superb teachers, even if they were short sighted."

"But they were hardly short sighted, were they? Hogwarts is still here a thousand years on, and the Muggles don't even believe we exist, let alone want to kill any of us," Harry burst out angrily.

"So you claim," Shiakana said coolly.

"Look," Harry said, ignoring Hermione. "Say you were right, and the Muggles did want to kill us all. Why would I be standing here right now, telling you they didn't? Do you really think I'd live with Muggles if they all wanted to kill me?" Both snakes hissed at this for some reason._ Okay,_ _bad example. _"Or let my friends go back to the same world if it meant they'd be attacked and killed? What possible reason could I have for saying otherwise?"

"I do not know," Shiakana said quietly. "That is why I am still here, on this door, listening to you, and giving you a chance to prove yourself. However, while you continue to refuse to give me hard evidence, you shall not proceed any further."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "Harry, tell Shiakana to perform Legilimency on me. She'll be able to see for herself that the Muggles don't even believe magic exists anymore."

"Are you crazy Hermione?" Harry exploded. "I thought you were meant to be the calm, rational, one of me, you, and Ron? If you let her in your head, you can't protect anything. She might even possess you!"

"If I show her my memories, then I will prove to the people that started this whole idea that," She took a deep breath, "that, people like me are somehow inferior, I'll prove that they are wrong." Hermione's voice was slightly constricted, but nevertheless it contained resolve.

"We know he has nothing to tell us except stories of neglect at the hands of Muggles, Shiakana. Why do you insist upon listening to the lies he has to say?" Kaen snapped from the shadows.

"Wait a second Harry," Hermione said, as he translated. "Ask Shiakana if Voldemort just told them about his life in the Muggle orphanage, or if there was anything else."

There was silence. "Because, no-one likes orphanages." Harry continued hastily, "I mean, you haven't any family there, do you?"

"Salazar's Heir is not the only person who knows of the Muggles' ways," Kaen hissed in answer.

Hermione thought hard for a second. "Okay, ask them if they found anything out four years ago, when Ginny opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"You mean…" Harry said in answer. "You think Riddle's diary?"

Hermione nodded. "Well, maybe. Initially I thought they might have performed Legilimency on Ginny when she was possessed by the diary, but yes, what if she wrote something in the diary about you, and the Dursleys, and Riddle told them? You hadn't really talked much, but she still knew how they treated you."

_She did write about me, as well._ Harry thought to himself.

Ginny had poured herself into the diary, and talked about her worries… and all about Harry. Riddle had wanted to hear more and more about Harry. She must have mentioned how Harry was mistreated at the Dursleys – her brothers had just rescued him from them that summer, after all. Either way, whether through her or Tom Riddle, the two snakes would know that he wasn't being completely truthful when he claimed that no Muggles wanted to kill witches or wizards.

"The girl who opened the Chamber of Secrets the last time, before me," Harry began, "did you perform Legilimency on her?"

There was a soft hiss, and a movement of Shiakana's head that Harry took as a yes. Her eyes gleamed suddenly.

"Ah." Harry hissed reflexively, before turning to Hermione, and saying glumly. "Yep. They know."

Hermione's forehead creased, and she started to pace.

"What?" Harry asked, after he had watched her for a couple of seconds.

"Maybe…" She began, "Maybe you can still prove to them that most Muggles don't believe in magic anyway."

Harry made a disbelieving sound. "How?"

"Well, you said the Dursleys thought you weren't normal because you could use magic… That they were scared the neighbours would find out that you were a freak."

"And you think if I show them memories like that, then they'll know that most Muggles don't believe in magic," Harry said triumphantly, resisting the urge to punch the air.

He turned back to the door, and Shiakana. "Okay. I think I understand why you don't believe me then. Look, the thing about the Dursleys is, my Aunt is actually a Muggleborn witch, but because none of the Muggles believe in magic, she thought there was something wrong with her, and wanted to stay a Muggle."

There was a sound of disbelief from the shadows, where Kaen still lurked, but Shiakana stayed calm. "Go on."

"You see, my Aunt and Uncle, they know magic exists, but they don't want to believe it, because then they would be different. And all their friends don't know about magic, so they were scared stiff I might do something 'abnormal'. The only reason I live with them is because there's a charm on the house that gives me protection from..."

"Lord Voldemort. Protection against the person that took the life of one of your parents." Shiakana hissed, eyes widening. "Your Aunt or Uncle's sibling."

Kaen slithered back onto the door. "So some of the old Magicks are still remembered."

He sounded as friendly as Harry had heard him, but the tone soon changed, as he turned to tell Hermione about this change in attitude towards him. "Do not waste our time by talking to the Muggleborn, boy."

Harry took a few seconds to control his temper, before replying. "Look, Shiakana, I can show you some of my memories that might prove the Muggles don't know about us anymore, just, remember, not all Muggles are like the Dursleys."

"Very well," Shiakana hissed, her long body swaying in what could have been a nod of the head.

"I shall observe also." Kaen hissed self-importantly.

"No, you won't," Harry said, trembling with anger. "I trust Shiakana more than I trust you. And if either of you do anything to me or Hermione, I swear I'll destroy you and your door. Shiakana, after I let you in my head, you do nothing. You just wait, and I'll show you."

"Agreed," she hissed.

"Okay Hermione," Harry said nervously. "I'm going to show Shiakana my memories. Don't look at Kaen whatever you do, and if I start acting weird or something, stun me, and ask questions later."

Hermione nodded.

"Right." Harry looked at Shiakana's eyes.

"Legilimens!" She hissed.

Harry concentrated hard. He would allow Shiakana into his mind, but he was going to give himself as much control over what she could and could not do as possible. Shiakana did not fight his supremacy in the initial battle of wills.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry stared at the large gleaming snake that was coiled up on the other side of the archway.

"Follow me." He hissed.

He climbed up the benches, until he was face to face with the door that led to his childhood memories. He passed through the doorway, into an identical room. Shiakana was right behind him.

"Interesting." She hissed. "A labyrinth."

"Stay here." Harry commanded, and walked forwards to one of the doors.

He knew the exact memories he wanted for this particular task. They were ones that had haunted him rather, and for very different reasons.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I don't know how it grew back!" A young Harry was shouting, while dodging a flailing hand from his aunt. "It must have been magic or something."

Aunt Petunia gave out a loud howl. "There is no such thing as magic, boy!"

Her bony hand finally connected with Harry's cheek, causing him to shout in pain.

"But I keep telling you! I don't know how it-" He ducked.

"A likely story, Potter. Just like you don't know how you ended up on the top of the school roofs last week."

"I told you." The eight year old screamed, fighting back tears. "I must have been caught by a puff of wind or something."

"You are a nasty, ungrateful, liar!" Harry's aunt yelled. "For once in your life you will act normal. Go to your cupboard."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I didn't believe magic existed, until I was told by someone from Hogwarts." Harry hissed to the snake. "Don't you think I would have realised that things like growing my hair back, or suddenly appearing on the top of buildings were magic, if people believed in it?"

He didn't give Shiakana a chance to reply, but searched for another memory.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The two four year olds, Harry and Dudley, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, were all at one of Uncle Vernon's business picnics. Harry would normally not have been allowed to go, but Mrs Figg was unavailable for this afternoon, and Harry's Uncle's fellow directors all wished their employees to have good family homes. It would have looked a bit odd if one of the directors had appeared without all their family. Upset stomachs could only cover the excuses for a certain amount of time.

Harry, dressed in Dudley's old clothes, but still looking relatively respectable, as their size differences hadn't become too large yet (and the Dursleys had an image to look after), was playing with the child of another of the directors.

Suddenly Harry's playmate burst out crying.

"Where Lowwy?" Was the lament, as the child searched for his favourite toy.

The young Harry looked around anxiously. He hadn't had many friends, and he didn't want one to get upset. The Dursleys stopped him talking to them again if they cried. Aha! There it was. The toy lorry was half hidden behind a young sapling. The young Harry vaguely remembered his companion hiding it there as part of their game. He walked over and picked it up, before presenting it to the young boy.

He grabbed it, eyes wide. "How'd you find it?"

Harry smiled shyly. "Magic." He said.

The laugh of the boy's mother was blotted out of Harry's ears by the sound of heavy breathing approaching: Uncle Vernon.

"There's no such thing as magic, boy, and I won't have you tormenting other children with the idea."

"It's okay Vernon," the boy's mother said genially, "they were just having a game. And it does no harm to let them believe in magic at this stage in their little lives, does it? They'll have to deal with harsh realities soon enough. Your boy had just found Edgar's lost toy. Thank Harry, Edgar."

Edgar was looking in a rather frightened manner at Uncle Vernon. "Thank you, Harry," he said automatically, while not looking away from Harry's Uncle.

"You must be proud of the lad, Vernon. Most kids that age think only of themselves, but no sooner was little Edgar upset, then Harry was trying to help, and help he did."

"Did he?" Vernon Dursley grunted. "I'm sorry Liz, but the boy has an unfortunate habit of taking things that aren't his. It needs to be stamped out of him as soon as possible. It was probably he that took it in the first place."

"No, no!" Liz said with another little laugh. "I saw Edgar put it there earlier."

"Well, we really have to be going, Liz, I'll take Harry off your hands."

Harry vaguely heard Liz turn to her husband, and it was the next line that had tormented him the most. "He seemed such a well mannered child. I'm sure Vernon and Petunia must really be very proud of him. Pity Vernon is so stressed with that takeover deal at the moment."

Harry had long wondered why fate had chosen to land him with the Dursleys, rather than Liz, and her family.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"See?" Harry told Shiakana. "Most of the Muggles are decent, it's just the Dursleys that are the problem. And none of them believe in magic."

He turned back to look for another memory, but he felt Shiakana withdraw from his head.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I am convinced, Kaen." She hissed. "As far as he is concerned, he is telling the truth."

"So we can pass then?" Harry asked, almost disbelievingly.

"You may. And I hope you get your revenge on your Uncle and Aunt some day, Harry Potter." She hissed, her half of the door opening.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Are you okay? Kaen didn't do anything did he?"

"I'm fine. And well done Harry."

Harry stepped through Shiakana's half of the door (Kaen's remained closed), into the dim Chamber inside, withdrawing the Marauders' Map as he did so.

Hermione peered around. "Slytherin didn't install any lights, did he?" She whispered.

"I dunno. Dumbledore provides the light when I come down with him." Harry switched to Parseltongue. "Light."

Green flames erupted from torches set high in each of the pillars, and the walls. It succeeded in illuminating the Chamber, but in an eerie green glow that added an air of creepiness that wasn't there with Dumbledore's brilliant white light.

The first thing to attract Hermione's attention wasn't the remains of the Basilisk, or the statue of Slytherin, but rather the snakelike carvings that stretched the length of the Chamber before turning back on themselves.

"Do you think this is some sort of writing?" She asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "No idea. If it is, it's one that even Dumbledore doesn't know, so I don't know how we could find out what it said."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "But all codes or languages can eventually be decoded. I bet that if this is a language, Dumbledore will be able to translate it in the end."

Harry shrugged again. If Hermione was that desperate to look around the Chamber of Secrets, he'd let her. They had plenty of time.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Did you think that I wouldn't be able to cope with going back down there?" Ginny hissed furiously. "That I was scared, or not able to look after myself?"

When Harry and Hermione had returned to the Gryffindor common room that night, they had been met by an irate Ginny, who had discovered where they were through Ron. Harry had noticed Hermione producing her 'secrecy' charm out of the corner of his eye the moment they had seen Ginny's face, which meant he probably should have been ready for the outburst.

"No, I just-" Harry began.

"Or don't you trust me?" Ginny demanded. "Are there some things you tell Ron and Hermione, but don't trust me with?"

"No!" Harry said. "It's not that! I just… I didn't want to put you in danger, I mean after the last time you were there-"

"Oh, so it is that you don't think I'm good enough then? Well, Harry, I don't want to be protected. I went to the Ministry too, didn't I? I fought as well as anyone else didn't I? At least _my_ brain didn't go to mush like Ron's did. And if You-K- if _Voldemort_ is going to mean I'm in danger sometimes if I help fight him, then I don't care."

"But Ginny-" Harry tried again.

"You can't just expect me to wait in safety when people I care about are in danger. You're the one who tried to save all the hostages in the Tri-Wizard tournament."

She raised her hand, and for a mad split second Harry thought she was going to slap him, but instead she grabbed her broom, and Quidditch robes, and stalked upstairs in fury.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked, feeling rather staggered.

"No idea, mate." Ron said, sounding just as clueless. "She just asked me where you guys were, and when I told her, and that you didn't think it would be fair to ask her if she wanted to go, she just… flipped. She was having a right go at me as we came back from training, too. Something about how she can look after herself."

They both looked at Hermione. She simply shrugged her shoulders.

"How come you get away scot-free?" Harry asked.

"I won't." She sighed. "But at least she doesn't see me as the ones treating her as useless. And she knows my hands were tied."

"But we're not!" Ron protested. "She's my little sister; I just want to make sure she's okay! And what's this rubbish about your hands being tied?"

But Harry thought he knew what Hermione had meant. She had been Ginny's confidante when she was having sleepless nights. Remembering Hermione's noise of scepticism earlier, she was probably quite aware this would happen, but didn't want to break Ginny's confidences.

"Well, I'm just going to get some study done for my Apparition test." (She had announced to Harry and Ron at the last session that she was going to take it this weekend.) "Don't you two have homework to do? And have you decided whether you're going to take those lessons with Professor Aravenne yet, Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked, taking a second to follow the change in conversation. "Oh, I guess I'd better. I mean…" He lowered his voice; "I almost buried the passage earlier didn't I? I just don't trust him still."

Hermione nodded. "Look, Harry, I know you didn't want to earlier, but how about you give me the Invisibility Cloak, and I sit in with you, to make sure he doesn't do anything to you? Just for the first time."

Harry didn't feel like doing any more arguing tonight, so he just shrugged his shoulders and gave in. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Neither Ron nor Harry were particularly successful at getting Hermione to talk at breakfast on Saturday. She was engrossed in 'Apparition Accidents: An Almanac of What to Avoid', although Harry thought it was hard to imagine her being any more prepared for her test later that day. Harry and Ron used it as an opportunity to talk Quidditch.

Hermione in fact, was so oblivious to the world around her this morning, that the post owl which delivered her Daily Prophet was forced to stand in front of her plate, gently nudging her with no success. Harry eventually took pity on the bird, and removed its burden. The large bold print on the front page made him forget his intention to alert Hermione to its appearance, however, and caused him to lay it down flat on the table.

Ron let out a whoop, as he saw the same headline Harry had. Harry glanced around, the attention of most people in the hall was firmly upon him. He ignored them, and bent over the paper to see what exactly it had to say, just as Hermione raised her head from her book.

**_Black Was Innocent!_**

_Not Guilty! That was the findings of Madam Amelia Bones' personally led investigation into whether or not Sirius Black was indeed guilty of the crimes that have been levelled at him for many years. These supposed crimes included being a senior Death Eater, of various murders, including one particularly vicious killing of thirteen people with one curse, passing information to You-Know-Who from inside the Ministry, and plotting to kill James and Lily Potter, and the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, on the night that the Dark Lord first fell. _

_This morning, Minister Scrimgeour launched a scathing attack on his predecessors, outraged that they could have allowed, what he calls, a blatant miscarriage of justice. He also promised Wizarding _ _Britain__ to do everything in his powers to prevent it occurring again. _

_"__Perhaps the most appalling thing about Sirius Black's case, was the fact that despite the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he was not allowed to represent himself at his own trial. Sirius Black did not even get the chance to defend himself against these accusations. While this may have been understandable, if reprehensible, during the height of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's power, there can be no excuse once he had been defeated. As a direct result of this, an innocent man who had in fact done everything within his power to fight for the side of light was sent to Azkaban. Allow me to assure the British public that for as long as I am in office, this shall never happen again." _

_The Minister then proceeded to detail the work done by Sirius Black to fight You-Know-Who, even after he was thought of throughout the world as a murderer, culminating in his untimely death at the Ministry in May, as he strove to protect his Godson, Harry Potter. He finished by informing us that the Ministry intended to honour Sirius Black at the earliest possible date. _

_"__I am delighted to announce that Sirius Black's Godson, Harry Potter, has consented to accept a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class for Sirius Black, to be presented at the Opening Ceremony of the Monument of Magical Unity on the evening of the twenty first of December." _

_The _ _Monument__ of _ _Magical Unity__, of course, is set to replace the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the Ministry foyer. The world renowned sculptor Edvard de-" _

Harry looked up, and grinned at Ron and Hermione in satisfaction; Ron immediately proceeded to clap him on the back. For once in his life the stares that followed Harry around the school that day didn't bother him one bit.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry knocked on the door to Aravenne's office late Monday evening. Hermione, now an Apparition license holding adult, was hidden beside him underneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Come in," Aravenne's voice told him.

He opened the door, and walked in a little nervously, making a show of removing his bag from his shoulders before shutting the door, to enable Hermione to slip in behind him.

Aravenne gave a small smile. "Good evening Harry. I'm afraid I should have told you not to bother bringing any books or parchment. There are a couple of books in the library that you shall find useful however, although I'm afraid they are rather dry. I may end up setting you some recommended reading at the end of each lesson. For now, however: the basics. Here, take a seat." He waved to a leather chair that was in the centre of the room.

Harry glanced around as he took his seat. Aravenne had pushed everything except for two chairs to the walls, giving them as much space as possible. The two rugs were rolled up, and leaning against the bookshelves. He noticed Harry looking around, and grinned.

"Just a precaution – although if you do manage to produce some wandless magic in our first session, I'll be very impressed. It takes a while to get your head around the theory of it I found."

"Okay," Harry nodded.

"Very well," Aravenne said, taking his seat. "The art of wandless magic to some extent follows from learning to become a Magus. You may remember I called the voice a focusing tool in our lessons on Magi."

Harry nodded. "You said that incantations don't actually have any magical abilities at all, they are just a way for us to tell spells apart."

"Not exactly," Aravenne corrected. "The actual words of the spells are important, for example: Lumos takes its name from the Latin for 'light', and Nox from the Latin for 'darkness'. The fact that these words are associated with the effects of the spells themselves helps us to cast the spell. It is possible to cast the spell with some other incantation, but it is not as easy."

He took out his wand, and uttered, "Green."

Aravenne showed Harry the lit wand for a few seconds, before he cancelled the spell, and recast it with the proper incantation. While the wand tip had been bright the first time, the difference in brightness was nevertheless visible.

"You see?" He asked.

Harry nodded.

"The wand is like the voice. It helps cast the spell, nothing more. Magic is inside us, but it is uncontrolled. The way we have learnt to use it is with focussing items such as wands, or the use of incantations. While these help, they don't actually produce the magic, they just help us bring it out."

"And when I was doing accidental magic, it was because my subconscious, or whatever, knew how to bring out the magic without needing to use wands or words?" Harry asked.

Aravenne nodded. "Exactly. Now, the trick to casting spells wandlessly is to use other things to focus on until the mind starts to do it automatically. It is probably easiest to understand by doing, so I shall lead you through the steps that work best for the majority of people, before explaining what each step does. I do not expect you to actually succeed in casting a spell, so do not worry, but a trial run through may help."

"Okay," Harry said. "So what do I do?"

"First I want you to relax into the chair. Make yourself comfortable. Then I want you to close your eyes."

Harry looked at Aravenne quizzically, but did so.

"All right. I want you to imagine this office in your head, just as we are now, you sitting in that chair, and me in this one. Now I want you to close your eyes in this image, and as you do so, everything will start to go black, as if you actually are closing your eyes."

Harry couldn't help but make a small sound of amusement.

"This is just to help you concentrate, Harry. You need to be able to picture things in your mind, and yet keep your mind sharp. I know it sounds silly, but in order to get rid of one focussing item, we need to make it as easy as possible to find another."

"Okay." Harry grinned, while keeping his eyes firmly shut.

He did understand it, because it reminded him of his Occlumency to some extent. One of the hardest things about clearing his mind had been that objects would jump into his mind as soon as he got rid of any that were already there. This exercise was obviously designed in order to teach him control over the images that might enter his mind while his eyes were closed.

"We'll keep going, as this is just a trial run," Aravenne's voice said. "You will probably find that in the future you will need to repeat this exercise in order to help your concentration. I want you to see nothing but darkness in your mind now, nothing at all."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"I want you to imagine you can see the magic inside your body, the magic that you are trying to use. It is constantly moving, it crackles with power, and as it does so, it forms large spheres which spread themselves out through your head."

Harry started to concentrate hard, and eventually he started to see a liquid blue substance gel together, and then split, and then form together once more. They sparked whenever they approached each other, as if each blob contained electricity. Soon it began to fill his vision, as more and more balls started to appear from thin air.

"Okay." He spoke in a soft, slow voice. As he spoke, the image flickered slightly, as he was forced to concentrate on something else.

"What colour is it?"

"Blue." Harry replied without hesitation.

"Blue?" Aravenne repeated in slight surprise. Harry wondered if he had actually expected him to be able to see anything at all. "Very well. I want you to control the blue substance with your mind. Make it form into one perfectly spherical ball."

Harry struggled to control it, but it seemed to have a life of its own. Every time he tried to force it together, another piece or two would break free. Aravenne, however, did not give him long to try to influence it.

"Now, I want you to change the colour of the ball to white. This is the colour of the spell you are going to attempt to cast."

Again, this wasn't as easy as Harry had expected. He managed to create a paler blue, but that was about it.

"Now, this ball of magic is inside your head, which is why you can see it in your mind's eye. I want you to concentrate on moving the ball from your head, down your neck, to your right shoulder, down your arm, all the way to your hand. Have you managed that?" Aravenne asked, his voice slow.

Eventually Harry nodded, but in truth he wasn't sure that he had. He had tried to imagine his own body in his head, and lead the blue ball down the route Aravenne had suggested, but wasn't sure if that was the right way to go about it.

"Good. Now I want you to say the incantation for the spell: Lumos."

"Lumos."

As he said the word, Harry felt a tingling in his right hand side, a little like pins and needles. The closer it got to his hand, the stronger it became. He opened his eyes.

His hand was glowing a faint blue.

Harry looked at Aravenne, trying to gauge his reaction. There was the faintest glimmer of surprise, but nothing else.

"Very good." He said slowly. "It took me far, far longer to produce my first reaction. I must admit that I was unable to truly imagine magic in any physical sense or form whatsoever. You obviously have a vivid imagination." He grinned.

"So how do I get rid of it?" Harry asked, waving his hand gingerly.

Aravenne made a sound of amusement. "Very well, I shall allow you to attempt to cancel the spell before I explain what you have just done. To cancel the spell is rather simple. Close your eyes once more."

Harry closed his eyes obediently, and started to imagine the scene in Aravenne's office before he was even instructed to.

"Now, I want you to imagine that ball of light again. It is currently in your hand, so I want you to move your consciousness down from your head to your right hand once more, just as you did when casting the spell."

"Okay."

"Do you see the ball of light?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Now I want you to break the ball up into pieces, so that each piece moves freely once more. As you do so, utter the spell: 'Nox'."

Harry opened his eyes. His hand had stopped glowing.

"Okay. So what did I just do?" Harry asked.

"Something I certainly did not expect you to." Aravenne replied. "Tell me, have you done any similar mental exercises before? Where you attempted to imagine things, and control every aspect of your imagination I mean."

Harry shrugged. "A bit." He wasn't going to explain to Aravenne about the Occlumency techniques, which he had been doing for days on end, being rather similar.

Aravenne simply nodded. "That would probably explain it then. The aim of this exercise is to 'see' the magic inside you, and try to control it. You are not actually viewing it of course, but rather you are giving your mind a way to interact with it. Your subconscious can translate this image with the actual magical ability inside you."

"So it's kind of like the wand, but inside me, rather than outside?" Harry asked

"Exactly, it is another focussing technique. And just like with wands, each wizard's view of magic is slightly different, and it is a matter of finding the right 'view' for you. Just as some wizards are better suited by a short, thick Holly wand with Unicorn hair, as opposed to a long, thin wand made from Willow, and Dragon teeth, each wizard's view of the magic inside them differs slightly. Unfortunately, when it comes to wandless magic, it is rather trial and error to discover the thing that works best."

"Okay." Harry said. "I think I understand that, but why did I have to make it into a ball?"

"Ah. The shape you force the representation of magic into is a depiction of the wand movement. The Lumos spell, of course, is possibly the simplest spell we know, because it requires no wand movement. Therefore the ball represented a dot, or the amount of movement a wand would have to do to cast the spell. It again, is another focussing technique. If, for example, you were to cast a levitation spell, you would not form a ball from the magic, but rather a pattern which mimicked the swish and flick necessary to cast it with a wand."

"Okay." Harry said dubiously.

"It will make more sense the more practice you do." Aravenne assured him.

"I hope so." Harry admitted sheepishly. "Um, the next thing you told me to do was change the colour of the ball-"

"Yes. With Lumos that does not matter so much, as the light emitted will be the same colour you are thinking of, but with other spells, like the stunning spell for example, you will be unable to cast the spell unless you match the colour with the colour of the curse."

"So it would have to be red?" Harry checked.

"Exactly. Now, as you know, certain charms don't produce a visible colour when cast. The summoning charm, for example. So when casting these spells, rather than forcing the ball into a colour, you must cause it to become transparent."

"I see. And the last bit was a matter of deciding where the curse should come from. So I could cast it from my hand, or else from my eyes or something."

Aravenne laughed at this. "Theoretically you could, I suppose, but it is best to stick to the hands, and the fingers, as they are the easiest parts of the body to make delicate movements with, and with the more advanced spells, it helps to use your hands as additional focussing tools."

Harry nodded. "So what now, practice, practice, and more practice?"

"I'm afraid so. You will find that the difficulty increases drastically, the more powerful a spell you wish to cast, however. Of course, this is only the basics, and there will be more theory involved, but for now, this will do."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

By the time Aravenne decided to call their lesson over, he had not once attempted to do anything to Harry, except teach him how to cast the Lumos spell wandlessly. This did not stop Hermione from offering to accompany him to Aravenne's office each lesson. Ron found this rather funny.

"You know what it is Harry." He said between sniggers. "She just doesn't want you to know how to do something she doesn't. She actually trusts Aravenne, but she wants to learn how to cast spells wandlessly too."

From the way Hermione's cheeks turned slightly pinker, Harry thought there might have been an element of truth to Ron's words.

The days before Christmas started to fly by, and it wasn't surprising when Harry thought about it. After all, even though he was still banned from Quidditch practices, he now had Wandless magic classes to fit in, along with Occlumency, DA, Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Apparition lessons, and another trip down to the Chamber of Secrets. McGonagall's conjuration came and went, with Harry's butterfly lasting for a couple of hours longer than necessary (Hermione's was a week and counting), and before Harry knew it, he was soon facing a return to Grimmauld Place. To his surprise, he was no longer dreading it; instead, it was the much publicised opening of the new statue in the Ministry that was attracting his trepidation.

* * *

_A/N: I'll admit, I'm not a huge fan of how this chapter looks to the eye with the scene-breaks. Unfortunately, the way I want them to be is impossible thanks to the site's editing software, so it's really stuck this way._


	21. The Grace of Merlin

**Chapter 21: The Grace of Merlin **

"We're going." Ron said stubbornly.

He and Harry had been peeling sprouts at the sink, while Mrs Weasley bustled around, putting a joint of pork (which looked more like a whole pig to Harry) into the oven, among other things. It had been while Mrs Weasley had asked for details of their school year as they worked, that Ron had mentioned the reaction of the school to the Sirius article. It would have been with great pleasure that he related the acceptance of the truth by the students, and the even greater dislike that Fudge was talked about in many quarters. Except for the fact that this argument had got in the way first.

"Ronald Weasley." Mrs Weasley began, swelling up and looking more than ready for a fight (Ron recoiled). "You are not of age yet. The decision is not up to you."

"Why not?" Ron said mulishly. "Why shouldn't Ginny or me be able to see the Ministry tell the whole world the truth about Sirius? Why shouldn't we be there when Harry gets given the Order of Merlin for Sirius?"

"Because," Mrs Weasley began dangerously, "I will not allow my children to be in put in harm's way."

"How can it be risky?" Ron demanded. "Professor Dumbledore and Remus wouldn't have let Harry do this if it was unsafe, would they?"

Mrs Weasley whipped her wand at some knives, which began to top and tail some carrots so viciously that pieces of the vegetable started to fly across the kitchen in Grimmauld Place.

"The ceremony has been plastered in all the newspapers for most of the last month, as if You-Know-Who needs to know where all the most important people in our world are, and I am NOT going to let all of my children be right in the middle of it all."

"So you think You-Know-Who is going to attack?" Ron asked.

"I am not going to take any chances with any of my children." Mrs Weasley said angrily, waving her wand again.

Potatoes were now being halved with loud 'thumps' each time the knives hit the chopping board. Harry gave half a thought to sneaking out of the kitchen. Even his Gryffindor courage found Mrs Weasley's wrath hard to handle. Ordinarily, any arguments a Weasley child might have raised would already have been quashed, or at least suspended until later, when they might have applied to their father as well, but Ron seemed to have screwed up all of his courage.

"But if it's dangerous then I have to be there!" Ron said, ears going red, and voice rising towards a shout. "There's no way I'm letting Harry go there without me if You-Know-Who might attack."

"Professor Dumbledore and the Minister have been making security arrangements for the last few weeks. It will be as safe as they can possibly m-"

"Then why can't I go?" Ron interrupted.

"You are not going Ronald, and that is final." Mrs Weasley's hand was shaking slightly, Harry noticed, as she put glaze onto the roast. "I may not be able to prevent Fred and George, or Harry, or Hermione, much as I would like to, but I can stop you and Ginny."

"Harry would want us to be there for him as moral support. Don't you Harry?" Ron continued fiercely.

"I- Well-" Harry said uncomfortably. "It would be nice to see some friendly faces."

"I'm sorry Harry," Mrs Weasley said in a choked voice, "but Ron and Ginny are not going. I'll finish those sprouts, dears, now out, both of you."

Harry had the awful feeling as he and Ron sped from the kitchen that he could hear tears coming from behind them. Ron was too angry to notice.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"…and so, I am delighted to introduce to you, Edvard de Flamente." Minister Scrimgeour said to a round of applause.

A short, plump, bald, man in a magenta robe, with a bushy, red, handlebar moustache waddled to the front of the stage. The reception area of the Ministry of Magic had been transformed into a large hall, packed with seats filled by important people, photographers and journalists (Rita Skeeter had given Harry an ingratiating smile as she took her seat), Hogwarts teachers, and the few ordinary witches and wizards who had been lucky enough to get a seat – in that order. The room had been divided cleverly so that the curtain-covered Monument of Magical Unity attracted everybody's attention, without diverting interest from the stage upon which the people of honour were sitting.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Remus, Bill, the Weasley twins, and Hermione had been given V.I.P. seats near the very front, being close friends of Harry, and now and then, he caught a glimpse of a reassuring smile from one – or all – of them. With them sat Percy, who looked rather nervous, but pleased to be with his parents. He didn't offer Harry a reassuring grin, but rather avoided his eyes, which was quite an achievement seeing as Harry was seated in the centre of the stage, beside the Minister, Madam Bones, and the new Head of Aurors, a thin, rakish man who seemed to walk around with his eyes permanently narrowed, called Arum Parsons.

Harry had barely been introduced to the sculptor who was now delivering an oratory, but he had not needed long to discover he was not particularly like Gilderoy Lockhart. Yes, he was pompous, arrogant, and had the same determined belief in his own greatness, but unlike Lockhart, he did actually seem to know what he was talking about, and more particularly, he didn't assume that everybody was in love with him. Quite the opposite in fact – he seemed to take offence at the smallest thing. Harry had already been treated to an angry outburst from the man in response to Harry's inference that he was German. He was Swiss, Harry discovered, not German, French, or Italian, and he seemed to consider the fact Harry didn't know that to be a grave insult.

Harry, of course, had just been going by what Ginny and Mrs Weasley had told him, but thankfully Mr Crouch's replacement in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Madam Cultara, had smoothed things over. It was easy to see why people thought he was German however, he did have a habit of throwing words into his conversations that sounded even to Harry's untrained ear as, well, German.

Harry continued to ignore every word the man was saying, and glanced around the room again. He caught Fred's eyes, and Fred immediately made a face that said clearly: 'when will this guy shut up?' Harry didn't make any expression in reply – the twins didn't have a whole room looking at them. At all exits to the room were stationed Aurors, part of the major security precautions that were taking place. Tonks glanced at the stage occasionally from the door she was guarding, but Kingsley was nowhere to be seen. Harry noticed that many of the teachers, Professor Aravenne in particular, glanced towards the doors as if alert for a possible attack.

De Flamente's speech seemed to have ended for there was another round of applause, and Minister Scrimgeour had returned to his feet. He gave the Swiss a bow, and strode forward to resume his place.

"The destruction of the Fountain of Magical Brethren was a tragedy," He began strongly, "but the destruction of any object is eclipsed by the loss of life, when it is of the nobility of a man such as Sirius Black."

Harry looked out upon the crowd, noticing more than a few dubious faces amongst them, and he realised that the reason most of them were attentive was that they wanted to hear this for themselves. He met Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, and drew strength from them. The best way he could persuade people of Sirius' true self was to remain strong in front of their eyes.

"This is a man who worked tirelessly against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before he was wrongly arrested. We now believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that the crimes Sirius Black was imprisoned for, were committed by Peter Pettigrew, an illegal animagus. This innocent man was sent to Azkaban, and yet he escaped, which no man had done before, not to harm any of us who were to blame, but to protect someone. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."

Professor Aravenne was staring attentively at Harry, and Harry was reminded of the conversation they had had at the start of the month, when Aravenne had told Harry of the responsibility he had, whether he liked it or not, towards the people who saw him as a hero. Beside him, Professor McGonagall gave Harry a small nod, and beside her sat Snape, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.

"It is for this unswerving loyalty to the side of right that I wish to honour him today, for when he died, in this same building, in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which culminated in the destruction of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and the loss of his brave life, he had more reason to have deserted our side than anyone. Sirius Black's closest family are Death Eaters. He grew up in a family that cherished their abhorrent beliefs. We had forsaken him, and subjected him to misery.

"But yet he never forsook us! For years Sirius Black has been falsely accused of heinous crimes, but no more! He deserves to be recognised for what he was – nay – _is_, and held up as an example that no matter what, there is no excuse to turn to dark magic, and the Dark Lords' service, be they He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Grindelwald, or any of the other Wizards or Witches who have sought to destroy our society. We all have a duty to fight evil, and like Sirius Black, no matter where we come from, or what happens to us, we must not hide behind excuses to shirk our responsibility.

"It is therefore with great pleasure that I introduce to you Harry Potter, Sirius Black's godson, who has graciously agreed to accept an Order of Merlin, First Class, on behalf of his godfather."

Harry stood up at his cue, and, trying to hide his nerves, walked forward during the applause. He was quite pleased with the Minister's speech, for, while the rhetoric had been obviously intended to raise spirits, and gain support for the Ministry from the public; Sirius had belatedly received some of the respect he deserved. Scrimgeour offered his hand to Harry who shook it, wincing slightly as the flash bulbs of the photographers caused red blots to obscure his vision. Their firm handshake would be on the front pages of all the papers tomorrow.

Rufus Scrimgeour then picked up a small box, covered with dark blue velvet, with golden stylised threads forming a miniature representation of Merlin, which regally prowled the lid. The Minister opened it, to reveal more velvet, and a gleaming black medal – ebony – with yet more gold, that this time formed striking letters. Love or loathe the Ministry, they did make impressive medals.

The cameras flashed again, as Harry took the box. He idly wondered why they didn't follow the Muggle example, and produce cameras that didn't belch smoke, or that could produce colour photographs. Scrimgeour was beaming, probably at the rise in public opinion the applause suggested, Harry thought dryly.

The Minister waited for the applause to die down before raising his hands, and saying: "And now we come to the final part of our ceremony: the unveiling of the Monument of Magical Unity."

As he spoke, he flourished his hand in the direction of the monument, and the curtain flew into the air, and vanished, exposing Edvard de Flamente's work for the first time that evening. Harry's immediate thought was that the marble structure was as pretentious as he, Ron, and Hermione had surmised it might be upon the day of Snape's trial. A moat and foot high wall surrounded various statues in different poses. A man and a centaur were poised as though to defend the fort from harm, a goblin worked upon the creation of a sword at a forge, a witch was in the process of healing an injured man, house-elves at her side, and elsewhere another witch and wizard were engrossed in study of a tome.

To Harry's untrained eye, it was hideously ugly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"_Es ist_ a masterpiece, _ja_?" The sculptor was talking about his own piece of work to Harry, who had become ensnared in conversation with him before he could look for Remus, Hermione, and the Weasley family.

"Um, yes, it's very-" Harry began, trying to think of a complimentary word to describe the monstrosity.

"Here, let me get you _ein _glass of wine." He didn't wait for an answer from Harry, but rather snapped his fingers in mid air.

A drinks tray appeared in his hand, with two large glasses of red wine which stayed perfectly steady, despite the jerky movements of the man's hand.

"I dunno, er, I don't really drink." Harry told him.

He looked around for someone who might be willing to rescue him – he wished he could introduce de Flamente to Mrs Weasley. Not only would she appreciate a chance to talk with such an artist, but he knew it would allow him to slip away somewhere quieter. He had hoped that Dumbledore might talk to him at the first opportunity, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the teachers in fact. Despite the stage having vanished, and the hall being its normal size again, there seemed to be more people now that they were moving around rather than sitting in neat rows, and they seemed to obscure everyone Harry wanted to see.

"Nonsense, _ein bisschen _won't hurt you, boy." De Flamente said unconcerned.

Harry raised the glass to his lips, and took a sip. He had heard words used such as fruity to describe wines, but he couldn't taste any fruit in this. He didn't particularly like the tart taste, and resolved to drink as little as possible.

"_Ja_, _wunderbar_!" The man said reflectively, before continuing, "A satyr brewed wine if I am not mistaken. Superb."

Harry made a noncommittal noise, and resumed his sweep of the room. A small group of people at the door Tonks was guarding caught Harry's attention, and he thought he might have glimpsed a flash of Fred or George's red hair in the midst of them.

"Herr de Flamente!" The woman's voice rang in Harry's ears, with, what was to Harry, obvious affectation. He could almost hear the sneer of the boy that he knew would be close by.

"Mrs Malfoy!" De Flamente said delightedly, bowing his podgy body awkwardly. "_Es ist_ wonderful to see you once more."

"This is my son, Draco." Narcissa Malfoy said, in what was obviously meant to be a charming voice.

"My mother has told me a lot about you, sir." Malfoy said, offering a bow himself.

In between his smooth speech, he sneered at Harry, who was stung into an answer which only Draco could hear.

"I'm surprised to see you here Malfoy; what with your father being known as a Death Eater, how could you afford the seats?"

Malfoy's cheeks flushed red, and Harry felt immense pleasure at the opportunity to insult Draco Malfoy as he had insulted the Weasleys so many times.

"You'll get yours, Potter." He hissed.

"This is Harry Potter, Narcissa." Edvard de Flamente said as if introducing two good friends of his to each other. "Harry, this is Mrs Narcissa Malfoy and her son-"

"I know." Harry interrupted, trying not to allow his voice to sound strained. "I've met them before. Mr Malf-"

"Harry." A voice said from behind, causing Harry to turn sharply. It was Percy. "Can I have a word?"

Harry glanced back at the Malfoys and the sculptor. Mrs Malfoy was steering de Flamente away. He didn't need to glance twice to be glad of the distraction.

"Sure. What about?"

"Not here." Percy said, sounding a little nervous, and he led Harry out of the milling crowd.

"Thanks." Harry said quietly, putting down his glass of wine on a nearby table, full of different edible items.

Percy gave him a strange look, and continued to the back of the hall, where an Auror stood aside and allowed the two of them to walk through a small door, into a narrow corridor.

"What's this about?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"I just want a bit of privacy." Percy muttered. "I doubt I'll get another chance after this ends, will I?"

And with that, he led Harry around a couple of corners before he stopped, turned, and fixed Harry with a glare.

"Fred and George's shop was just attacked."

"What?" Harry demanded, aghast, heart racing. "Is everyone okay?"

"Fred and George were here to see you being given the award, remember, they're fine. At the moment anyway."

"But… what about everyone else, their staff, Verity-"

"Verity?" Percy asked, dubiously.

"Fred says he fancies h- is she okay?" Harry pressed.

Percy shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know the details. We can all guess why they were attacked though…

"I won't let you put my family in danger Harry. I know you don't think I care about them, but I'd do anything to keep them safe."

"What? So you're trying to tell me Voldemort" – Percy flinched – "attacked Fred and George's shop because of me?" Harry said furiously. "It couldn't have anything to do with the things they said in the Prophet, could it? Or half their products?"

"You are the only reason my family is in that Order." Percy hissed.

"Says who?" Harry demanded angrily. "Your mother's brothers were in it when Voldemort was first here."

Percy blinked.

"It's not that I have anything against you Harry," He said eventually, "but can't you see that hanging around you is going to mean they're targeted? If Ron and Ginny-"

"Who says the decision is up to me? Why don't you tell them that, and let them decide?"

"I'm not saying…" Percy exhaled deeply. "Look, they wouldn't listen to me, but you- We all know You-Know-Who has targeted you, and I'm sorry- But if you were to warn-"

"You think I don't care about their safety?" Harry shouted. "You don't think I've already told them that they'd be safer away from me?"

Harry turned his back on him, but the third Weasley brother grabbed his shoulder. Harry reached for his wand reflexively.

"If anything happens to them because of you – I swear you'll regret it." Percy said in a low, threatening voice that Harry had never heard before.

"Likewise." Harry replied coldly as swung back around to face him again.

Percy glared back. "It would be safer for everyone if you didn't see each other."

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked evenly.

Percy looked away. "Look, I'm not- Like I said, I have nothing against you, I'm just worried about my family."

"They can make their own decisions." Harry swivelled once more, but before he had taken two paces the lights dimmed.

"Harry, wait."

Harry ignored him.

"This is wrong." Percy continued.

"Yeah, you know what, it is." Harry snarled. "I'm being told by someone who abandoned his family for the last year and a half that he doesn't want me to see them. _I_ actually care about them."

Percy went red with anger, and for the couple of seconds he took calming breaths, Harry thought he might draw his wand.

"I'm not talking about that. These lights shouldn't have dimmed."

"So the lighting charms have failed. Big deal. I'm going back to the entrance hall."

"Stop!" Percy hissed warningly. "The only time the lights should dim like that, is if there are intruders in the Ministry."

That sentence brought Harry up abruptly. "Voldemort's attacking the Ministry?"

Percy flinched. "I don't know. If there really was an intruder, then an alarm would be going off, and most of these doors would seal themselves." He waved at the corridor behind them. "Come on. This way."

Percy took five steps, and turned the handle of the nearest door. It swung open.

"Intruders. Yeah. I guess you must have talked to me for too long." Harry said bitingly. "Death Eaters must be coming after you now."

Percy looked livid, and fingered his wand.

"Satisfied?" Harry continued.

"I'm telling you, Potter, this isn't right." Percy said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, whate-"

A resounding blast shook the air, and echoed as though it had been in a large cathedral. Three people wearing Death Eaters masks and robes had appeared in the corridor between them and the ceremony.

The tension of their confrontation caused both Harry and Percy to draw their wands first and cast spells reflexively.

"Stupefy!" Percy yelled.

"Ebriatus!" Harry shouted at the same time.

The Death Eater Percy had aimed at deflected the curse easily, but Harry's target had produced a large bell shield which did nothing to stop Harry's disorienting charm penetrating it, and hitting him. The third Death Eater raised his wand and aimed at Harry.

"Crucio!" He yelled.

Harry found himself falling towards the wall, as he heard Percy scream. He had pushed Harry out of the way, and taken the curse meant for him. For a split-second, Harry and the Death Eaters watched Percy's writhing body, before the Death Eater struck by Harry's charm lurched into Percy's attacker, breaking the Cruciatus curse.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry yelled, aiming at the ceiling.

Splinters, dust, and air flew through the air in explosion, causing the Death Eaters to duck. Harry grabbed Percy, and half dragged him backwards further down the corridor. Percy found his feet, while swearing and coughing filled the air, along with the sound of a third body hitting the floor.

"_Vapeo!_" Harry thought, in an effort to fill the corridor with as much smoke and dust as possible.

A curse sped past them, and Percy stumbled into a door, which he opened. Harry dragged him away.

"We don't want to get cornered." He whispered, starting to think clearly.

They turned a corner. Percy was hobbling and panting, and Harry knew it would not take long before they would have to fight again.

"Can you apparate yet?" Percy gasped.

"Last time I tried in a fight I splinched myself. But what about the wards?"

"They got in." Percy pointed out, before gesturing towards a door. "This door takes us up a level."

"Colloportus." Harry muttered, as Percy stumbled up the first few steps. Harry pointed his wand at the wall just in front of the door. "Laminacelo!"

"What?" Percy asked.

"Something I learned in Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry told him.

Percy stumbled, and narrowly avoided falling back down the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

Percy nodded. "Do you think you could apparate out?"

"I can try." Harry said, and then trying to make himself feel a little less nervous, continued. "Can you pick up anything I forget to take with me?"

"Try somewhere close by, like the entrance hall." Percy suggested. "I'll follow after you."

The door below thudded, and with a nervous glance at it, Harry nodded.

He closed his eyes, concentrating hard. His ears popped, and then Harry screamed involuntarily. He felt as though his body was both constricting and expanding at the same time. A white mist obscured his vision, and he tried to throw up, but couldn't even control enough of his body for that.

A split second later the pain was gone, and his scream echoed around him strangely. He had a strange feeling of floating in mid air, and frantically tried to open his eyes to see where he was, before he realised that he had rolled them back into his head. His limbs felt like lead, and were unresponsive. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment saw blackness.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Enervate!"

Harry groaned.

"Are you okay?" Percy's voice asked urgently.

Harry opened his eyes. His vision blurred and swam. He reflexively put his hand to his face to check for his glasses, but it seemed to take an age to feel the reassuring metal.

"Not really." He mumbled.

"You've got to get up." Percy urged.

"Give me a moment." He blinked his eyes, and eventually they focussed.

He was sitting in another corridor, a few feet away from a door. A loud scream came from behind it, and Harry remembered where he was.

"Death Eaters." He muttered, scrambling to his feet.

"What did that spell of yours do?" Percy asked uneasily.

"Blade jinx. Which way?"

"I don't know." Percy said, looking distracted. "The lifts and the other stairs are miles away." After a moment's hesitation, he moved down the corridor. "This way."

After a couple of steps, Harry's head swam again, and he stumbled. Percy, however, didn't notice. He was still limping himself. There was a loud crash behind them, as the door to the stairs was blasted off its hinges, and two men shot out. A couple of curses missed them by inches, and Percy half shoved Harry through a door.

"Colloportus!" Percy's voice said from behind Harry, as he looked around.

A large room, with a number of windows showing the illusion of the outside, every free space of wall was covered with Quidditch posters. A box of inactive Bludgers sat on the nearest of many sturdy desks, and flew across the room with a wave of Harry's wand. Another door stared at them from across the room.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said with a swish and flick, and levitated the desk in front of them on to its side in front of the door, just as a gruff voice called out.

"Alohomora!"

But the door couldn't open, while blocked by the desk, and Harry quickly locked it again. Percy hastily helped him build a barricade of sorts, levitating anything from a bookcase full of Quidditch books, to filing cabinets, to Quaffles.

"Viscidus!" Harry finished, gluing the makeshift barrier together, and then to the floor in an effort to give it strength.

The door was steadily being destroyed by the Death Eaters behind it, but it was buying them some time.

"The other door." Percy said curtly, gesturing behind them.

Harry nodded, but didn't move immediately. Instead, he cast another spell.

"Mutucutus!"

There were another couple of curses from the hallway, as the destructive spells, temporarily at least, had no effect. Harry turned, and tried to run across the room to their escape, but it turned into more of an accelerated hobble. If it wasn't for the subsequent fact that Percy must have rescued him from the stairway, Harry would have been tempted to curse him for his suggestion of apparition.

The door opened into a plush room, complete with comfortable chairs and a secretary's desk, but Harry didn't notice immediately. He was too busy locking the door with a different charm.

"Reception area for the Chairwizard of the British Association of Quidditch Players and-" Percy explained, but Harry interrupted him.

"The Floo!" He said, pointing at a large fireplace.

"It's internal." Percy said quickly. "But we should be able to get back and warn the Minister."

He stepped forwards towards the pot of Floo Powder beside the grate, as Harry lit it with a wave of his wand. As the powder hit the flames, they changed colour to green, and Harry felt a surge of relief well up inside him. It was short lived.

The fire went out.

"What?" Harry shouted angrily. "Incendio!"

The curse shot into the grate, but as it was about to hit the wood that was just waiting to be lit on fire, it veered upwards, and shot out of sight up the chimney.

"What the hell?" Harry said again.

"They've blocked the Floo." Percy said, managing to stop all but a bit of bitterness. Then, with a resolve that took Harry by surprise, he turned away from the fireplace, and sounded commanding. "Come on, that barrier won't last."

Harry left the room first, wand held in front of him protectively, and turned to his right, at Percy's order.

"How are they going to get out then?" Harry demanded. "If we can't apparate out, or use the Floo, how are they planning to get out if the Ministry finds they're here?"

Percy shook his head to show he didn't know, but said nothing. They continued silently down the corridor, turning into another as soon they could. The pursuers hadn't caught up with them yet. Harry crossed his fingers mentally that they had lost them. After an uneventful couple of minutes, Percy pointed towards another door.

"That's another staircase up." He told Harry.

"Isn't that the wrong way?"

Percy shrugged. "Yes. So maybe they won't follow us."

Harry raised his eyebrows in appreciation. He hadn't expected Percy to think on his feet. He was used to him obeying rules rigidly.

Percy turned to lock the door behind them, but Harry forced his wand away.

"If we lock it, then they'll know we've gone upstairs." He reasoned quietly.

Percy was panting hard by the time they reached the top of the stairs, which caused Harry to silently wonder just how badly Percy had been hit by the Cruciatus curse. He, himself, was finding that every step he took, and every second he had, since his failed attempt to apparate, meant he felt a little better. Belatedly, he realised that Percy didn't play Quidditch, or duel in Aravenne's lessons, and therefore wouldn't have the fitness Harry did.

They closed the door quietly behind them at the top of the stairs, and Percy led the way forward, along the corridors of the Department of Magical Transportation. Ten steps away from the next corner, they heard voices.

"Where the hell are Cauley and his group? I want to go upstairs and enjoy the fun."

"What have they got going?"

They were bland voices, ones which suggested a Ministry worker, or guard, tired of his job and waiting to be relieved, but the next person's words removed any doubt between Ministry workers, and Voldemort's murderers.

"The Widow rounded up the couple of Aurors left here, and is probably playing games with them as we speak."

"Don't let Ms. Lestrange hear you call her that, you idiot, Higginbotham. She'll kill you as soon as it's out of your mouth."

Harry and Percy stood stock still. If the men were close enough to eavesdrop against, then they didn't want to make any sudden sounds of their own.

"A kid killed her Husband, Terry, you sure she's all that she's cracked up to be?" Higginbotham retorted.

"When Cauley finally gets here we'll go upstairs, and if you keep your smart-aleck mouth shut, you'll learn something about power. Besides, I hear that kid, as you call him, Harry Potter, blocked the Avada Kedavra curse. He may be a kid, but I ain't duelling against him unless I have to."

Percy gasped loudly, causing the conversation to stop.

Harry resisted the temptation to swear. He glared at Percy, and raised his wand. Percy took a step backwards, and glanced around, looking tense.

"Finally." The one called Terry muttered. "Cauley, what the hell took y-"

A Death Eater rounded the corner and stopped.

"Incarcerus!" Percy said loudly.

"Stupefy." Harry said more calmly, at the same time.

The man was hit by both curses before he could react, and flew backwards in to the wall. Stunned. Trussed. And lying in a heap.

His comrades, hidden around the corner, cursed loudly. Percy took another step backwards. His hand was shaking, Harry noticed.

Two more men appeared, and both Harry's and Percy's curses were deflected this time. One of the two sent a wordless curse at Percy, but the other grinned maniacally, and curled his mouth lovingly around his incantation.

"Pulmelido."

Harry had already started to speak the shield charm Aravenne had taught him after the fight in Hogsmeade. "Bullatueor!"

The sickly yellow curse sped towards Harry, before, a foot away, it hit a shimmering, bubble-like obstruction. Ribbons of yellow curved away, and around, above, and even below him, surrounding him for a millisecond, before dissipating.

Harry's heart thumped in his chest in fury, and a red flash superimposed his vision. Instinctively, he knew what it was, and trusted in his subconscious.

"Falxiardor!" He screamed, his emotions using his voice to escape. He swiped the wand fiercely, but precisely.

The curse left his wand in a blinding, fiery red. It struck his assailant's mask, which lit like an inferno. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, and the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, a black mark diagonally halving the face, and the fire spreading quickly.

Harry's wand smoothly moved towards the third of Voldemort's servants, and he again trusted his instincts, using the first spell that came to mind.

"Reducto."

As if scared, the Death Eater tried to fling himself out of the way rather than use his wand, but the curse struck him just below his right shoulder, and he was flung backwards, red blood soaking into his robes.

"Y- Y- You-"

Harry glanced behind him to see a terrified Percy staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw movement behind them.

"Duck!" He yelled, and collapsed, trusting that he could break his fall with his hands.

Three curses flew well over his head, and Harry rolled as he hit the ground.

"Impedimenta!" He replied, and the Death Eaters flattened themselves to the wall.

They responded in kind, and Harry blocked one curse, and avoided another. Percy barely shielded himself in time. With a speed that took himself by surprise, Harry sent a couple more curses down the corridor. His first curse missed, but his second hit a curse sent towards him by a squat looking witch, and glanced off to hit a wizard that immediately halted in place, frozen by the Impedimenta charm. The third Death Eater ducked behind a door as Percy rejoined the fray.

A sound behind them turned Harry to glance behind for a fraction of a second. Alarm bells rang in his head, but he was too intent upon avoiding another couple of curses to realise why for a couple of seconds. Then, as he cast a simple Protego spell to protect him from the explosion that came from the wall in front of him, it clicked. The man he had struck with the Reductor curse had vanished.

"Percy!" Harry shouted urgently. "He's gone!"

Percy had been working his way forward towards a door on the right of the corridor, but as he glanced to see Harry's gesture behind them with his head, he was caught by a spell, and his legs flailed around frantically. He overbalanced, rather fortuitously narrowly avoiding the Cruciatus curse as a result.

"_Finite._"Harry thought, ending the spell that had grounded the Weasley brother.

He sidestepped another spell, and, sweat running down his face, pointed his wand back towards the foe.

"Falxia!"

He didn't have time to see if it connected or not, for Percy, who had looked back at Harry, had clearly seen something behind him. Alarm bells went off in his head once more, and, connecting it with his earlier feeling of unease, he knew that reinforcements must have arrived.

Harry flung himself to his right, as he heard a gruff voice behind him say: "Quassossis!"

The curse only glanced against Harry, hitting his left arm, but it flung him forward onto his front, tearing his robes. He felt as if millions of sharp teeth were biting into his limp arm from both inside and out, and yelled in pain. Oaths from both behind and in front of him sounded, as Death Eaters were forced to evade spells which had missed, but Harry was too distracted by the pain to force himself to move in the couple of gained seconds.

"Crucio!" Someone yelled.

For a long second, Harry's body spasmed in agony – his arm shrieking in pain each time it jerked, and hitting the floor face first as it bounced. The curse lifted. Harry was being dragged by his good arm, and he had moved just far enough away to break the spell.

He stopped moving, and Percy's voice shouted out: "Mutucutus!"

Harry's left leg was struck by another glancing curse, and he vaguely heard the sickening crunch of bone through the pain. Then he was moving again. The next time he stopped, he heard the slam of a door, and he somehow gathered the strength to roll onto his back. Percy had just locked the door into a small room. His face was pale, and he was breathing heavily. Above the door was a sign, in large bold letters.

**Portkey Placement Office**

"Here." Percy said, offering Harry a velvet box.

Harry didn't look at the Order of Merlin that he hadn't even realised he'd dropped, nor did he marvel that Percy had decided he had to save it when he saw that he had. Instead he stared silently at the sign above the door, knowing he should say something, but not being able to halt his painful gasps to do just that.

Percy turned to see what had caught his attention.

"A Portkey!"

"Can you do it?" Harry asked, finding his voice.

"Theoretically." Percy muttered, and then continued quietly. "Will it work?"

"It better." Harry said fervently. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his uninjured hand.

Percy knelt beside Harry, half sheltered from the door by a desk, and, pointing his wand at the thing closest to hand – Sirius' Order of Merlin – started muttering. Harry felt himself grow weaker, and his concentration weakening.

"Alohomora." A voice said from behind the door.

"Colloportus!" Harry said quickly, and the door immediately sealed itself once more.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Another voice said before Harry could do anything to stop it.

The door exploded, to reveal two faceless masks, with a third behind them. They froze as they saw their quarry clearly for the first time.

"F-" One began under his breath.

"It's _him_." A second said in shock.

"Rejicia Max-" Harry began, barely noticing their hesitation, but a wordless wave of the third's wand silenced him.

"Kill him." He said, as Harry tried to concentrate through the pain to cast the spell wordlessly.

The other Death Eaters finally raised their wands again, and Harry screamed.

A hook had caught his midriff, and tugged him inelegantly through the air.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry arrived in the hall of Grimmauld Place on a stretcher, racked with agony despite the numbing charm that had been placed on him to lessen the pain. Dumbledore himself was beside him, hand placed comfortingly on his unharmed shoulder, and levitating Harry with his wand. The rest of the Order and the teachers were at the Ministry, trying to help restore order, and Percy had been immediately sent to St Mungo's after he had explained what had happened.

Dumbledore firmly, but politely, insisted that Harry was to be seen to elsewhere. The hospital was obviously not secure enough for the Headmaster's liking. The argument had continued until far out of Harry's hearing, as he had lain still, half comatose, having his most pressing medical needs seen to – such as the staunching of his wounds.

"I will see you up to your room, Harry, and then fetch Madam Pomfrey." He said softly, before turning to the girl at his side. "Miss Granger, please inform Master and Miss Weasley of the events that have just happened, and tell Alastor Moody that I require both his and Mundungus' presence in my study at Hogwarts at once. I shall-"

He was cut short by a scream. "Harry!" It was Ginny.

"I'm okay." Harry mumbled, but he couldn't hear the words he tried to say.

The room was growing gloomier, and the pain was starting to fade. He tried to push himself upright enough to see her, and realised that his hand was slippery with liquid. He was covered in it, he realised vaguely. He heard Dumbledore's calm voice echoing away into the distance as it dimmed, until he could hear it, and Ginny's sobs, no more, as he finally embraced unconsciousness.

"Harry has lost a lot of blood, Miss Weasley-"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

_The sightless face of charcoal's lidless eyes was staring at him wildly. It was so close that Harry could smell the stink of burnt death. The corpse was clothed in fire, its mouth opened in a grotesque, permanent silent scream. It stretched for Harry, trying to take him with it into the black abyss that was threatening to swallow it up behind it. It grabbed his throat, and Harry felt his neck starting to burn, blackening over from the inferno that enveloped the dead man. He lifted his wand to defend himself, and the corpse flew backwards, claimed by the vortex._

_Harry's throat continued to burn, and the flames spread down his neck towards his stomach, enveloping everything in its path. He opened his mouth to yell, but all he could do was splutter, the flames flowing into his mouth…_

Harry sat bolt upright to the continuing pain, his eyes snapping open; he had the vague feeling of familiar sheets, and yet an unfamiliar sterile smell, more suited to a hospital, than his own bedroom. Above him stood Poppy Pomfrey, a bottle in her hand, and a frown on her face.

"What-" Harry gasped, feeling a minute amount of liquid spill onto his chest.

Madam Pomfrey tutted briskly. "Lie down and let me do my job, Mr Potter. I'll mix you another sleeping draught – that last one should have been enough to sedate you in your weakened state, so this one could put you out for a while I'm afraid."

"No!" Harry said immediately, unable to completely keep the trace of fear out of his voice. "No." He repeated in a more controlled voice. "I don't want to sleep. Please."

Harry winced. A sharp pain had overwhelmed his left hand side, and he automatically tried to roll onto his right. The movement caused his whole body to ache in complaint, but as the pressure struck his left side once more, the sharpness of the earlier pain returned. Harry screwed up his face, and gritted his teeth.

"I can put you to sleep, and prevent you from feeling any pain while I work, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey said gently.

"No." Harry said again, and then gasped.

His arm felt as though it were burning as painfully as his throat had when the flaming corpse had…

"Lie down." Madam Pomfrey commanded, and she bent to help lower him without putting any pressure on his wounded side.

Harry's head lolled to his side as it hit the soft pillow, and he found himself staring at Ron, who was sitting on Harry's desk chair, his face white, and eyes red. His hands were clasped under his chin, nails digging into the backs of his hands.

"'Lo Harry." He said in a slightly shaking, quiet tone. He swallowed. "So much for it being safe."

"I'll be fine." Harry managed, wincing again as a jolt of pain consumed his whole body this time, rather than just his side.

Ron made a noise which sounded like he had tried to laugh, but instead expressed despair.

"I'm sorry." He managed to tell Harry quietly.

Harry felt Madam Pomfrey's presence return. "Drink this." She urged.

"No." Harry repeated. "No. Please. I'll put up with the pain."

He heard a small sob from his other side. Ginny.

"Please." Harry said, lowering his voice to the barest whisper. "I- I don't want to go to sleep and not be able to wake up."

"Very well." Madam Pomfrey said, the concern in her voice obvious. "This will hurt. If you should change your mind at any time, then tell me. Try to relax."

Harry closed his eyes as a particularly strong pain hit him. As Madam Pomfrey's first charm hit him, a wave of agony had erupted from his arm. Harry struggled to keep his teeth gritted, but eventually it was too much. He opened his mouth, and screamed.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

It seemed to go on forever to Harry – lying with his teeth clenched, the rest of his body out of his control as the muscles squeezed in pain every time Madam Pomfrey removed each piece of bone. His bones were too badly hurt to remove by conventional means. They hadn't simply been dislocated, broken, or fractured in a couple of places: they had been crushed. The curses that had paid Harry glancing blows had pounded the bones into razor sharp fragments which burrowed themselves into places bones had never been meant to be.

A simple de-boning charm wasn't enough to remove them; Madam Pomfrey had to take out each piece separately. And each time she did, every piece that was left seemed to dig in furiously in their reluctance to be removed.

The first time Harry had a chance to, he had asked Ron, Ginny, and Hermione (who he had belatedly realised was also in the room) to leave. He didn't want them to see, or hear, him like that. Ginny and Hermione withdrew; Ron stayed, as if he hadn't heard him. He stared at Harry, face pale but determined. At times he seemed to flinch, as if Harry's pain was his own, but never did he say a word, nor did his eyes stop boring into him.

Madam Pomfrey had continually offered Harry the sleeping draught, but each time Harry refused. He would take the pain. That, he knew he could deal with.

He wasn't sure if he was getting used to the pain, and more able to deal with it, or if it was lessening as Madam Pomfrey worked, but he found himself begin to blot it out, and retreated into his Occlumency. Perhaps it was neither, but rather he was trying to repel the pain by sheer force of will.

His Occlumency was improving dramatically, Harry knew, as he conjured up the image of the Department of Mysteries in his mind, but his finished Sanctuary was far from complete. As he stared at the Archway, he was struck by another idea as to how to improve his defences, and tried to work through it as Dumbledore had taught him to, trying to find any weaknesses in it. Now and then, part of his body was stabbed in pain, but Harry tried to ignore it.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Drink this, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey said quietly, holding a beaker to his mouth.

Harry shook his head and blinked. The pain wasn't gone completely, but was a dull throb in the background. He was half sitting up, he realised, and tried to push himself up into a more comfortable position, but only his right arm responded. He glanced at his floppy limbs, and then at the beaker Madam Pomfrey was holding, and groaned.

"Not Skele-Gro."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "After the pain you just put yourself through, I doubt you will feel this Mr Potter, now drink."

Harry screwed his face up, and tried to drink the liquid that burned its way unpleasantly down his throat. With a heroic effort he managed not to cough until the liquid had gone down far enough not to come back up again, and before he knew it, Ron was at his side with a goblet of water.

"I'm sorry Harry." He said again, in a voice filled with guilt.

"You couldn't have done anything." Harry told him.

"I should have been there." Ron said angrily. "I told you, we all told you that-"

He stopped. At first Harry had thought he had glanced at Madam Pomfrey, and remembering she wasn't in the Order, had thought to stay quiet. Then Harry followed his gaze. Mrs Weasley, a very tired, frightened Mrs Weasley, had entered the room.

"Harry-"

"How could you?" Ron said heatedly. "Harry could have died!"

"Ron-"

"Harry could have died, and you stopped me being able to do anything to stop it." His voice quivered with emotion. "How could you?" He repeated.

He took another glance at Harry, as though to reassure himself that he would live, and pushed past his mother, out onto the landing. Mrs Black's portrait started screaming in the distance. Mrs Weasley, speechless and trembling, didn't look able to move. A particularly powerful pain in his arm caused Harry to look away, and he noticed a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion on his bedside table.

He wondered when it had been placed there, and immediately wondered: why? Even his knowledge of Potions knew that strong sleeping draughts like that could do serious damage when mixed with other potions, or given to a patient who had suffered blood loss, or severe trauma. _Tick all of the above_.

"Molly, Poppy, I require a few moments of Harry's time." Dumbledore said quietly from the doorway. "Does Harry have any pressing medical requirements Poppy?"

"Simply bed rest." Madam Pomfrey said. "He ought to have a supply of painkilling potions just in case, and he must take another blood replenishing potion in the morning, but there is little else magic can do for him." She fixed Harry with a stare. "He needs to stay in bed tomorrow, and take it easy for at least the next week. Is that understood, Mr Potter?"

"Er, yes Ma'am." Harry said, giving a lopsided grin – everyone present knew that he would be out of bed as soon as possible given the opportunity.

"Thank you Poppy. I will send someone to pick the potions up as soon as possible."

"I shall need half an hour to get them ready, Headmaster." Madam Pomfrey warned, and then turned back to Harry. "If you need to take any of that particular potion beside you, Mr Potter, you may take a teaspoonful no sooner than four hours from now, and no more. You may take twice that amount for the next four days, but only if absolutely necessary, and after that you shall need a fortnight to get it completely out of your system. Be warned that you shall feel weak and fragile the day after taking it." She switched to a warning tone. "And do not take an ounce more, or sip a second sooner than I said."

Harry nodded and Madam Pomfrey straightened in a nod of her own. "Headmaster, Molly, Mr Potter."

"Molly, I must talk to Harry in private for a little while." Dumbledore said immediately Madam Pomfrey had apparated away.

"Of course, Albus." Mrs Weasley said in a calm voice which belied how she was feeling. "Everyone will be relieved to know Harry will be alright."

Dumbledore took a couple of steps to Harry's bedside as the door closed, and took the seat that Ron had left. He grimaced, stood up, and with a wry shake of the head conjured himself a chintz armchair.

"My back needs a chair more comfortable I'm afraid, Harry. I regret: a sign of old age."

Harry gave a small grin. Harry had seen Dumbledore in action; in spite of his age, it was difficult to imagine that Dumbledore had a bad back. It seemed more likely to Harry that Dumbledore liked his small comforts.

"You are very fortunate in your selection of friends, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Although one could perhaps say that luck has little to do with it, but that like minded people are drawn together."

"Ron-" Harry trailed off.

"Your friend Ronald Weasley shows a true friend's courage by caring for your life as much as he does his own. It is perhaps difficult for Molly to accept that her youngest children are becoming adults, and capable of making adult decisions. It is natural for parents to want to protect their children from harm, Harry."

"I know." Harry said, with the slightest touch of bitter irony in his voice before saying helplessly. "I don't want to cause Ron and Mrs Weasley to fight."

"This will not stop them from caring for each other, but they may find that their relationship will forever be changed. They will both acknowledge each other's protective feelings in time, do not fear. You must not trouble yourself about that now."

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"But let us not leave out your other friends from this praise; just because Miss Ginevra is more adept at controlling her emotions does not make her any less a person." Dumbledore offered him a smile. "And, you may have been, quite understandably, too indisposed to realise, but Miss Granger did a far better job than the Aurors assigned to protect your privacy after your own and Percy Weasley's return."

Harry went red, and gave a small chuckle. Then he felt himself grow more solemn, as he thought of Percy.

"Sir, Percy saved my life in there at least three times."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I think perhaps you had better tell me everything you can remember, starting from the time you and Mr Weasley first left the ceremony.

Harry nodded – he thought that was what Dumbledore had been there for.

"Percy wanted to talk about…" Harry hesitated, "… things… in private, and he wasn't going to be able to talk to me after this so we went away from the party."

After Percy had saved his life as he had, Harry felt that the original argument between them should remain secret. Dumbledore didn't push him on the subject, and other than quiet promptings, stayed silent during Harry's recital. Harry's tone of voice steadied as he explained the killing of the Death Eater, and he didn't look at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster made no greater reaction to this news than to anything else Harry had said.

Dumbledore nodded, as Harry finished. "Once more, Harry, you have done far more than anyone could expect of you. That you and Percy Weasley escaped safely is testament to both of you."

Harry took the praise without a smile. "I killed him. That Death Eater."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You did, yes."

"How does that make me any different to them?" Harry demanded, in a rush of words. "When Rodolphus Lestrange- When I killed him, it was because his curse bounced back at him, but- I meant to kill him. I knew what I was doing. I-"

Dumbledore held up at his hand. "Your question answers itself, Harry. The fact that you have these fears sets you apart from the person you fear becoming. But tell me: you were vastly outnumbered, fighting for your life alongside a man you possibly had doubts about, against opponents more experienced than you. Had you not hit the first man with the Falxiardor curse, or the second with the Reductor, what would have happened?"

Harry gave a small shrug, and when Dumbledore said nothing, finally answered with a small sigh. "We'd have had three of them fighting us on one side, and two on the other. They'd probably have killed us."

"Exactly." Dumbledore said. "Only a wizard, who is both exceptionally talented, and superbly taught, could ever have considered doing more than fighting for their lives."

"Such as you."

Dumbledore's beard twitched. "Such as I." He allowed. "I say again: no one, including yourself, Harry, could expect any more from you."

"So why were the Death Eaters there?" Harry asked. "Were they after me, or...?"

"Your presence was unfortunate coincidence I fear, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "If the fact that you stepped into the Ministry's corridors had signified an attack, we can be certain that you would have had to face far more of Voldemort's force than you did. I shall not know their reasons for certain until I talk to the Minister tonight. I find it quite unlikely that you and Mr Weasley were the targets."

"Sir-" Harry began, and then stopped, unsure as to the best way to phrase his request.

"Yes Harry?"

"Percy- Well, it's coming up to Christmas, isn't it? And, well, Remus asked Mr and Mrs Weasley if they'd like to have Christmas here. Because, well, I can't leave here, can I?" Harry went red slightly. "But Percy can't come here, it being the Headquarters, and all." He trailed off.

Dumbledore studied him closely for an almost imperceptible moment, before nodding. "I shall have a word with the Weasley family, Harry, and see what can be done."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"How are you doing that, Harry?" Hermione said in frustration, as a warm golden glow spread over his entire arm.

"Nox." Harry said, concentrating, and his arm returned to a normal colour. "It's a simple charm, Hermione." He said innocently, concealing a grin.

"You know quite well that's not what I mean."

While Madam Pomfrey had assigned bed rest to Harry, she hadn't forbidden visitors, and neither had she forbidden Harry to practice wandless magic. He grinned. That might have been because she didn't know about it. Not that he felt up to doing much, however. She had been right, he did feel wiped out thanks to the tiny amount of Dreamless Sleep potion he had taken, but he had a need to feel he was achieving something.

"You have to find the right version of magic for you," he told her, unable to stop his grin now, "I'm trying Golden Snitches, that seems to be working for me. Maybe you should try books." He added mischievously.

Hermione gave a sound of disgust. "I'd have to be able to see the representation of magic first. I just can't imagine it – all I see is blackness."

"I have spent a year doing Occlumency." Harry told her fairly. "A lot of the things I did for that were to help me imagine things in my head. Close your eyes, and take deep breaths. Don't try and force it, just let an image go into your head on its own. When it does, try controlling it, and changing things in it."

"Ever thought of trying to teach us how to be Virgaemin in the DA Harry?" Ron said, interrupting the peace, and making Hermione's eyes open.

Harry gave a look of mingled disgust and disbelief at the suggestion. "All I can do is make my skin glow, Ron, and only with a lot of effort."

He closed his eyes, and concentrated hard, to prove his point. A few seconds later his hand glowed white.

Ron shrugged ruefully. "Just hoping."

"Have you tried doing anything else Harry?" Ginny asked.

"Not really." He admitted. "Nox."

He reached for the wand on his bedside table, and with it, opened the drawer to the desk behind Ron, summoning a book to him before closing the drawer again.

"Aravenne told me to get this out of the library and study it." He held up the rather old looking book gingerly. "It's from the Restricted Section."

"Restricted Section?" Ginny asked.

Harry gave a lopsided grin. "It's not that it _does _anything, it's just, well…"

He opened the book near the back, showing them a lightning bolt shaped diagram. A page of small writing was opposite it, and, Harry knew, it continued for pages onwards as it explained how to cast the spell most efficiently.

"And…" Ron prompted.

"Well, it gives diagrams of the perfect wand movement for each spell. A lot of the spells have little bits that you usually miss out when using your wand, but you need to know them when trying to do them wandlessly. And when I say 'each spell', well," He pointed to the page, "that one's Avada Kedavra."

His friends were prevented from speaking by the twins' entrance. Their apparition hadn't been the normal exuberant sound, but was a far more sedate pop. Their faces were uncharacteristically serious, and tired.

"Hi Harry." Fred said immediately.

"You okay?" George finished.

Harry nodded. "How about you? What happened to the shop?"

"Death Eaters." George said shortly. "They killed the security guards and tried to trash the place."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Fred gave a short, bitter laugh. "Just the security guards. We closed it down early for the day, seeing as all the Aurors were going to be on duty at the Ministry. We should have given everyone the night off, and screw the guards."

"Still, the Aurors didn't help you much, did they Harry." George said angrily, before swearing loudly.

"So what are you going to do now?" Ginny asked. "Without the shop."

Fred laughed again, but this time in dark satisfaction. "Who said they succeeded in destroying the shop? They didn't even manage to destroy all the display items, and we keep our stock hidden when we're shut."

"They aren't going to put us out of business that easily." George said.

"But how-" Ron began, bemused.

"The Ministry collected the bodies of those who didn't run after they were hit by the first part of security system." Fred interrupted.

"Bodies?" Hermione asked in horror.

Fred and George shared a glance, and Harry could tell just by looking at their eyes that Death Eaters had died. To some extent, they reflected the conflict in his.

"Damn it, Hermione it's their own bloody fault." Fred said viciously. "It's like Remus said in the summer-"

"-they're the ones that attacked us!" George continued. "It's not our fault they died, it's theirs."

"Our first traps were just to incapacitate them." Fred added. "It's their own fault if they don't know when to give up."

"We didn't do anything wrong. They were the creeps who tried to destroy Diagon Alley."

"What other shops are still there?" Ginny asked, changing the subject.

"Not many near us." George said, simmering. "Ollivanders is."

"Yeah, they couldn't even enter it – they kept being tossed out on their rears." Fred explained. "But there aren't many other big shops near us, most of the small ones were burnt to the ground. There's a robe shop down the street that's still there, but they lost most of their stock."

"There's a Pots and Pans shop that they didn't even try to touch. The owner's probably a Death Eater himself." George said bitterly.

"But you're still going?" Harry asked.

"Of course, and if You-Know-Who thinks he can stop us, he can go f-"

"Fred!" Hermione said in reprimand.

"We told you we had plans we could fall back on if You-Know-Who attacked, Hermione." Fred said calmly, giving her a hard look. "And they haven't seen half of them yet."

Hermione gave a sardonic shrug. "What better security system than one designed by a couple of thieves."

"Hey!" George said in indignation, and suddenly the twins reverted to their more normal, mischievous style. "We prefer the term: 'Recoverers of Unjustly Seized Goods'."

"Or perhaps 'Champions of Justice who Risk Everything for the Good of Friends and Country, Even Themselves and Their Honour'."

"I like it Fred, but it's a bit long, maybe we should just leave it as 'Champions of Justice'?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shook their heads in resignation. The twins would always be the twins.


	22. Christmas Presents

**Chapter 22: Christmas Presents**

Harry wasn't sure what had woken him, but judging by the dim light that bathed the room, he had been allowed to sleep well into the morning. That Ron had permitted him to sleep in past daybreak on Christmas day, of all days, spoke volumes for his concern.

He started the day the same way he had the last three: by concentrating hard, and setting his arm aglow with light – this morning it was purple. Feeling pleased with himself, he sat up, tugging the sheets with his right arm as he did, so as not to lose their warmth quite yet. Their obstinate refusal to be pulled caused him to grin wider. At the bottom of the bed was a large pile of presents. He wasn't sure how, or when, they had got there, although, he thought ironically, he was unlikely to have woken up.

He grinned as he unwrapped Hermione's tidily packaged gift. A book (with a foreword written by Alastor Moody of all people) entitled: 'Spies, Assassins, and Traitors: the Telltale Signs'. He half expected to see a bookmark placed neatly at the beginning of a paragraph that Hermione felt exonerated Snape.

Setting it aside, feeling that it might prove to be a useful gift, with the trouble that he attracted, he grabbed a thin, hard package from Charlie. Opening it up, he found a vest made from Graphorn hide, and a note.

_Harry, thought you might find this useful – it's heavy, but damn useful. Saved my life a number of times in work – it's even resistant to dragons' flames._

Harry tried to bend the vest in his hands, and found it unusually firm. It was a greyish-purple colour, and, Harry knew, must have cost a lot due to its rarity. His twinge of guilt that a Weasley had seen fit to spend so much on him only grew when he saw the next present, a joint present from Bill and Fleur Delacour.

Their package felt soft even through the wrapping paper – on which snowmen threw snowballs at each other as flakes descended from the sky above. He gaped at the beautifully fashioned robe which flowed out of its packaging with grace. It gave a wonderfully cosy feeling when he put it on, so that he felt warm, but not over hot. It even made him look rather dashing in its midnight blue, he felt.

It slipped off his shoulders and into his hands almost as if it had a mind of its own as he reluctantly removed it and laid it carefully on his bed. For nearly the first time, he was tempted to wear a wizard's robe during the holidays. Putting it aside, he reached for another present – Ginny's – and discovered a bottle of aftershave, which he sniffed gingerly, and found, to his relief, actually smelt quite nice.

A lump came to his throat as he opened the next present. He laid it on his palm, opening its attachments and staring at it for a long while.

"I wanted to get you something that was more than just practical." Remus said softly from the doorway.

Harry looked up from the penknife which was so similar to the one Sirius had sent him in fourth year. He hadn't even heard Remus knock, or the door open.

"Thanks Moony." Harry replied with a small smile.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asked.

"Still a bit tired." Harry admitted. "But there's no way I'm using that crutch."

"Well, I recommend you hobble downstairs one way or another." He said with a crooked grin, and gave a slight shake of his head, as if in admiration.

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Remus shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye. "Just that you might miss the festivities if you sleep in any longer."

He grinned, and closed the door, leaving Harry with the feeling he hadn't told him something. He shrugged, and continued to work his way through the smaller group of presents that were left at the bottom of the bed. To his confusion neither Ron nor the twins had given him a present, or so it appeared at least. Despite feeling a little hurt, he tried to push it out of his mind, and tugged on the jumper Mrs Weasley had given him, attempting to smile happily.

A silver locket fell to the floor as he grabbed the waste wrapping paper to put it in the bin, and he stooped to examine it. His hands hesitated momentarily in the act of picking it up, before he rose again, and turned the pretty looking object over in his hand. Engraved in tiny writing on its rear was:

'Lock-Heart'

Harry had a strange sensation of trepidation and anticipation, as he realised that despite its change of name, and increase in elegance, this was Fred and George's work. He flipped it over once more, and his fingers hovered over the clasp, uncertain as to whether he actually wanted to open it or not. After a moment's pause, he slipped it into his pocket with a grin. He'd decide after confronting the owners of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

He started wincing before he reached the door, but his pride wouldn't allow him to support himself on the crutch that was leaning unused against the wall. It had appeared there a couple of days ago on its own, and nobody would confess to having placed it there.

His bones had completely re-grown quite quickly, but the rest of his arm and leg were still sore – he had quite an impressive long line of bruises. At least his muscles seemed to loosen after doing a bit of light exercise, he thought, as he opened the door to the sitting room. His mouth dropped. Everything seemed to have changed colour.

Hermione was sitting on an armchair that had turned into pink, looking rather smug. The seat clashed horribly with the other chairs in the room, whose only similarities were that their different shades were equally garish. One look at the lurid yellow carpet was enough to keep Harry from looking down. Unfortunately the alternative was looking at the wallpaper, which was now almost psychedelic. The Christmas decorations and tree only added to the bizarre appearance.

"What-?" Harry asked faintly, theatrically putting his hand in front of his eyes.

"Hermione." Ron said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

Harry noticed with a twinge that Ron was the only one not wearing a Weasley jumper. Both of the twins were, and so was Hermione. Ginny wasn't there.

"She came up with this colour scheme?" Harry asked in disbelief, to smothered laughs from the twins.

"No, that was the twins' idea." Hermione said, mouth twitching, and looking impatient to have the opportunity to explain whatever she had done. "They said the room needed brightening up."

"Too bright." Harry muttered and grinned. "How did you get past the decoration charms?"

"I made a password cracking charm." Hermione said, trying to sound nonchalant, but unable to stop looking pleased with herself. "I've been setting them, and trying to find the passwords since the beginning of the holidays."

"You made it?" Harry asked, impressed.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, still looking smug.

"She found a charm that-"

"You two can explain later." The twins said together, looking bored.

"We've got a present to give Harry, Ron." Fred said.

Ron and Hermione both glared at the twins, but Ron looked slightly happier at the mention of Harry's present.

"Well I'm thanking Hermione for hers." Harry cut across them. "Speaking of which, I foun-"

"Fine, fine." George said hurriedly, with a glance at Fred. "We just don't want you thinking we'd forgotten our financial backer at Christmas time, that's all."

"It's not a Christmas present, Harry." Hermione said, going rather pink. "This was just the first time I could try it out. I'd have done it for you and Remus anyway."

"Well thanks for the book, anyway." Harry grinned, and before another subject could begin, continued after a moment's hesitation. "Where's Ginny?"

The three Weasleys looked at each other, and hesitated.

"She had a bit of an argument with Dean yesterday. She'll be over later." Ron answered.

Hermione sighed, but said nothing.

Harry however said indignantly, "On Christmas Eve? What the hell is Dean thinking?"

Fred and George shared a satisfied look. "No idea." Fred told him. "But we don't know exactly what happened. Just that Ginny was upset."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, noticing the look.

"Us? Nothing." George said in surprise, and for a change it sounded sincere.

"Like I said, we've no idea what happened. But we'd hardly make our sister upset at Christmas, would we?"

"Well, not without a very good reason." George added.

"But do you want your present or not?" Fred asked.

"From the three of us." Ron added pointedly.

"Yes, from the three of us." Fred said in a soothing tone.

"Even though we did nearly all the work." George muttered.

He waved Harry towards the table upon which stood a large silver coloured box, and lifted the lid to reveal a chessboard. The chess pieces below lifted it out, and laid it on the table next to the box, before arranging themselves on the board. Rather than holding weapons, each piece held a wand.

Harry sent a disbelieving look towards Ron. "Is this-?"

"Yup." Ron grinned. "Watch."

He and George moved two pawns forward to fight, and with a flash of curses, George's pawn was bound, and towed off the board. All three Weasleys grinned proudly.

"That's really quite impressive." Hermione murmured.

"Thanks Hermione." Fred acknowledged. "But that's not all, watch this. Reset."

The pieces returned to their starting positions.

"Set white – Quidditch, Gryffindor." George commanded. "Set black – Quidditch, Ravenclaw."

The pieces shimmered, before, with two blinding flashes of light (white for white, black for black) turning into miniature representations of the two Quidditch teams. The Beaters became the castles, Chasers and Keeper the knights and bishops, Harry and his Firebolt took the position of the white queen, and a shimmering white Snitch became the Gryffindor king. The pawns consisted of an arrangement of Bludgers and Quaffles.

Even Hermione gaped at that. "How did you do that?" She demanded.

"What Hermione said." Harry agreed wide-eyed.

"A lot of hard effort from us, and useless suggestions from Ron." Fred said smugly.

"Whose idea was this in the first place?" Ron demanded. "And who came up with the suggestion that-"

"Okay, okay," George said placatingly, "so you made a couple of useful suggestions. We couldn't have done it without you."

Ron glared at them, and turned to Harry. "So what do you think?"

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked him. "It's bloody amazing! So what Quidditch teams has it got?"

"All of them." Fred said promptly. "All league teams, major countries, _and_ Hogwarts houses, including the 'Dream Team' or in other words us three years ago."

"Not just Quidditch teams though." George continued. "There's Death Eaters and Aurors – the Death Eaters are charmed to always lose – a few teams made from DA members, a team of Hogwarts ghosts… There should be a list of them here somewhere."

"This must have taken you ages." Harry said, almost in awe.

"Started it before your birthday." Fred grinned. "But most of the interesting stuff happened between Halloween and now."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Had the Weasleys all put so much work into their presents to him because of the disastrous Hogsmeade weekend? A lump in his throat stopped him swallowing. He didn't want the Weasleys feeling they had to treat him specially just because he hadn't wanted to see Ginny die.

"You okay Harry?" Ron asked. "Your side isn't hurting you is it?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. Look, you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"Course we should have." Fred said. "And anyway, George and I were thinking we could make a killing if we could make deals with the Quidditch teams, and sell Quidditch Chess sets separately. I mean, we've done all the work with your set, Harry, and we wouldn't have to worry about the spells, or fighting, or getting the sets to change like yours."

"Go for it." Harry grinned. "I take it you'll give Ron a cut as it was his idea."

Fred and George stared at him as if they couldn't believe their ears. "Give Ron a cut? After all the work we-"

"You said you couldn't have done it without him." Hermione pointed out, sharing a smirk with Harry.

Fred and George scowled.

"Besides," Harry shrugged, "it's Christmas."

"But we did ninety-five percent of the work!" George protested.

"Then give Ron five percent." Hermione suggested. "After all, if he did five percent of the work, then…"

"Fine, five percent of the _profits_." Fred said grumpily.

"Er, brilliant." Ron said, taken aback. The idea of getting a cut of the profits obviously hadn't entered his mind.

"Honestly, you can't let your guard down around these people for an instant." George said, tugging at his necklace in a fit of pique.

The catch at the back snapped open, and it slid across the table in front of Ron. Harry caught the sight of a familiar looking locket, and the glance he saw the twins share told him immediately that it either hadn't been imprinted, or was still temporary. Fred saw him look, and silently urged him to keep quiet. Harry ignored him.

"Ron-"

"Give that here, Ron." George said in a long suffering tone, interrupting Harry.

"Ron, it's one of their lockets." Harry said quickly, before he could be interrupted again. "The ones they showed us at Halloween."

"Shut up Harry." George said annoyed. "Give it back Ron."

Ron, however, grinned. "So, who do you fancy then George?"

He opened it up, and looked into the mirror inside. Harry saw his face turn red as he went into a furious blush. He slammed it shut once more.

"Accio!" Fred said triumphantly, brandishing his wand. He opened the locket with practiced ease, and laid it on the table in front of him. "Voila! The true love of Ron's heart!"

Engrained in the mirror was none other than the face of Hermione Granger, who blew a kiss towards the ceiling. Ron's face drained of colour, and Hermione's face went red, mimicking Ron's a few seconds earlier. Ron lunged across the table, and grabbed the locket, before fleeing the room.

The twins burst into laughter. Hermione, however, did not look amused.

She trembled, as she lost her customary poise, and called the twins a bunch of rather insulting names, before she too left the room.

The twins however continued to guffaw.

"Halleluiah!" Fred said, in between laughs. "How many years has it taken them?"

"Merlin knows!" George chortled back.

"You set him up, didn't you?" Harry said accusingly.

"Of course." Fred said, still chuckling. "Come on Harry, we've given them years to work it out on their own, we just helped it along a bit."

"It's that daft brother of ours." George agreed. "He just doesn't know what's good for him."

"No idea how he was put in Gryffindor." Fred sniggered. "If it were one of us, we'd have asked a long time ago; Hermione's just been waiting for him. Now she has no choice but to make the first move."

"Is that why you 'gave' me this?" Harry demanded, withdrawing the amulet he had found amongst his presents from his pocket. "You trying to become matchmakers now?"

"What? Oh, we knew you wouldn't open it Harry." Fred told him. "We've too much respect for you to think you'd fall for something like that."

"We just needed a back-up plan if Ron hadn't opened mine." George told him. "After all, even if he could resist looking at my Lock-Heart, there is no way he could have resisted looking at yours."

"I don't think either of them will be very happy with you for a few days." Remus' voice came dryly from the doorway.

Fred sighed. "You'd think we'd be thanked for giving them a hand, wouldn't you?"

"But no." George continued. "Five percent of our chess profits, a perfectly good Lock-Heart or two, and the impending wrath of two lovebirds."

"Oh well. All for a good cause." Fred grinned. "The things we do for the greater good."

"If you two have finished playing matchmakers, perhaps we can get this room sorted out before everyone else comes."

"What, don't you like it Remus?"

"No. Not really."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"You two look rather pleased with yourself." Bill observed, as he came strolling into the room. "Seeing as Ron and Hermione aren't here, I take it it worked."

"Of course." Fred grinned.

"You knew what they were going to do?" Harry asked.

"I suggested it." Bill said mischievously. "Charlie and I have been making bets as to how long it would take them to get together. Looks like I win."

"We haven't seen them since Fred and George's little prank." Remus warned. "Don't claim your prize too soon. They could have been scared away from each other by the stunt."

Bill's smile faded. "You _were_ subtle about it weren't you?" He asked the twins reproachfully.

Tonks' spontaneous laughter filled the room from the door. "Those two, subtle? I take it they projected it all over the walls, did they? Nice work with the decorations, by the way Remus."

"Hermione's work." Remus said wryly. "Even James or Sirius would have been hard pressed to find a way around a charm like that at her age."

"We ought to get her working on things for the Order." Tonks replied, before glancing over her shoulder, and mouthing dramatically. "I didn't say that."

Mrs Weasley came bustling into the room, cheeks rosy, and apron smelling invitingly of food. Behind her were Professor Dumbledore and Percy.

"Percy was released this morning." Mrs Weasley said happily.

Harry offered Percy a small grin. The twins, however, were looking at him rather doubtfully, and even Bill was unable to hide an expression of uncertainty.

"Glad to see you up and about Percy. Good to see you too, Albus." Remus said welcomingly. "Are you going to stay and eat with us?"

"Unfortunately, no." Dumbledore said regretfully. "I can only stay for a few minutes, and then I must be off. I wonder if I could have a minute of your time, Remus, Bill, Tonks?"

"Albus, it's Christmas." Mrs Weasley protested. "Can't the Order wait?"

"I only wish it could Molly. However, Voldemort is not a particularly religious man. It will only take a few moments."

For a couple of long seconds once they were left on their own, Harry and the twins stared at Percy, who looked rather unsure and awkward.

"Oh." Ron said, as the door opened once more. He scowled at the twins, and then walked up to Percy, and offered his hand.

"Thanks Perce." Ron said.

Percy's brow furrowed slightly as he shook. "What for?"

"For looking after Harry in the Ministry."

Percy looked very awkward at that, and he shrugged deprecatingly. "I shouldn't have asked Harry to go out of the room."

"Yeah, but you saved his life after, didn't you?" Fred said, taking his cue from Ron.

Percy still looked uncomfortable, and Harry wondered when he had last been in a family situation like this one.

"Where's Hermione?" George asked Ron with a grin.

"None of your business." Ron retorted.

"What? Not even a thank you?" Fred asked.

Ron glared at him, and then turned to Harry. "Want a game of chess?"

"Sure. Why not christen it with a loss?" Harry grinned. "Where is Hermione?"

"Talking to Ginny." Ron said, going slightly red.

"Ginny's here?" Harry asked.

"She came with me and Professor Dumbledore." Percy supplied.

"She'll be here in a minute." Ron said vaguely. "Pawn to D4."

Harry grimaced. "I hate it when you start off with that. Okay. Pawn to D5."

Thus began an exciting game, where first Ron, and then Harry held the upper hand. Fred, George, and Percy all made suggestions from the side of the board, but Harry ignored them, trying to concentrate fully on the game.

"Bugger it." Ron said, as Harry pinned his bishop and castle with his knight. "You're getting better Harry. Right, I'm going to have to concentrate now."

He stared at the board, his only movement his eyes moving first one way and then another as he worked through the moves.

"Hi Ginny." Fred said, causing Harry to look up. Ron didn't seem to hear.

Ginny just scowled at him.

"What?" George demanded. "Looks like we aren't appreciated by anyone Fred."

"After everything we do to help too." Fred agreed.

"Are you okay Ginny?" Harry asked, cutting across them.

Ginny shook her head, but not in answer to the question, but rather to show she didn't want to be asked it. She walked over to the board, and made a show of studying it.

"So this is their secret project?" She asked.

"Bishop to F6." Ron announced, cutting across the conversation, and the piece, carrying a large staff in one hand, and wand in the other, moved forward.

"Yeah." Harry said, and then frowned.

Why had Ron done that? He usually prized his castles above his bishops. He shrugged, his concentration broken by Ginny's entry. Well, he'd take the castle then.

"Knight to A1."

The knight vaulted over the pawn in front of it, and fired a curse at the castle, which dodged.

"Pulmelido!" Ron's piece squeaked.

"Bullatueor!" Harry's knight yelled at the same time.

The curse struck the bubble-shield, and spread around it. Harry felt his stomach rise towards his throat. The yellow ball disappeared, to reveal Harry's knight, already slashing downwards with his wand.

"Falxiardor!"

Ron's castle collapsed, covered in red flames, which extinguished themselves after a quick second.

"You okay Harry?" Ginny asked in a concerned voice.

"Yeah." Harry croaked, meeting Percy's eyes.

"You look pale." Fred told him. "As if you'd seen a ghost."

So did Percy. His face was as white as a sheet. Harry could see the fear behind his eyes as they looked at each other.

"You did, didn't you?" Ginny asked softly, observing the interaction between Harry and Percy. "Did that happen at the Ministry? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did." Harry said, not meeting her eyes. "I told you one of them died."

"Yeah, but you didn't say how." Ron told him, his attention finally diverted from the game. "You didn't say that he tried to use… that curse on you."

"Or that you used dark magic to stop him." Fred added.

"It's not dark magic." Ron said angrily. "What was he meant to do, try to stun this guy who was trying to kill him?"

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather Harry used that curse and was here, than didn't and wasn't." Ginny said, eyes flashing.

George held up his hands. "Fred didn't mean it like that. It's just… how did you learn it?"

"Look," Fred said, "you know what our security system did that night, okay?"

"It's Christmas." Harry said. "Can we not talk about this now?"

"Sure." Ron said, with such conviction that no one present would have been likely to gainsay him. "Right, where are we. Knight to B7, check."

"How come?" Percy demanded, looking happy to see the subject changed. "Harry's king is safe from your knight."

"Revealed check." Ron explained. "My queen's controlling the column."

Harry sighed. "For a second there, I thought I was beating you."

After Ron carried through his advantage, and they were called through to Christmas lunch, Ginny held Harry back as the others went past them.

"That's why you wouldn't take the sleeping potion from Madam Pomfrey, wasn't it?" She said, as if they were carrying on a conversation.

Harry looked at her uncomfortably.

"You should have said something." She told him seriously.

"I'm fine." Harry said shaking his head. "Besides, it's not the kind of thing I really wanted to talk about."

"Harry, I know what it's like." She took a deep breath and continued in a rush. "When I relive setting the basilisk on people, I see them dying. I see myself killing Colin, J-Justin," her voice quavered. "I see Hermione dying, I-" She turned away, and continued into the kitchen.

Harry stood silently for a few seconds. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Ginny had just shared something profoundly private with him that he had no business knowing. He also had the strong, rather reassuring feeling that he wasn't alone.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry felt warm, comfortable, and rather fuzzy, as he lay back in the chair, eyes half closed. _Maybe those couple of Butterbeers weren't such a good idea_, he thought vaguely. He was so tired, that they had almost sent him to sleep. He only half listened to the conversation that was taking place, as Hermione eagerly explained how she had defeated the decoration charms.

"But how did you manage to connect to the charm itself in order to cycle through the possible words?" Bill asked in great interest – curse-breaking was his speciality.

Hermione sounded pleased by the praise. "I used a basic magic detection charm; it didn't do anything by itself, but it joined the magical energies together so-"

"So you had a conduit." Bill said appreciatively. "Simple, but clever. Many of the spells we use involve more complicated methods. Less flexible, but you can skip most of the hard work trying to get everything to fit together."

"There are other ways I could have done it?" Hermione said, sounding a little disappointed. "I spent ages in the library trying to find some."

Bill laughed. "Tricks of the trade, Hermione. You'd have to find a specialised bookshop for these. I might lend you a couple if you show me what you did in detail at some time. But whether they'd have helped or not is another matter. As I said, not very flexible."

"Would you like a hand redecorating, Remus?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Remus grinned. "It would be greatly appreciated both by me and by Harry, I'm sure Molly."

Harry noticed the Marauder look at him in an almost paternal fashion. It was amazing how much people liked looking after an invalid, he felt in mild irritation, despite the fact that he wasn't in much of a position to dispel that notion at present.

"I don't know how many of the enchantments I'll be able to find the password for." Hermione said, almost apologetically. "The spell's limited to the words I know, which means English, and a bit of French."

Ron and Hermione weren't sitting together, but whether that was because the twins prank had made them avoid each other as Remus had suggested, or just that they didn't want to give Fred or George any satisfaction, Harry didn't know. He hadn't had a chance to ask them about it, and he wasn't sure how he would go about it. Maybe the direct approach would be the best. Or maybe not.

"I'm sure we can help with that;" Charlie told her, "I can offer some Romanian, if it helps."

"I know some Latin, Gobbledegook, Troll, and a few other languages I picked up in the Department of Magical Cooperation." Percy said eagerly.

"I'm sure between us we can work out most of the remaining passwords." Remus said, smiling. "If you will tell us what to do, of course, Hermione."

Hermione went pink. Harry smiled at the mixture of pride and discomfort even he could detect in his semiconscious state. His eyes slipped sleepily to the girl sitting beside her. Ginny was curled up on her chair, looking rather tired herself. Unlike Ron, she was wearing the jumper Mrs Weasley had given her, but Harry knew from things she had said that she felt just as guilty that she hadn't been at the Ministry either.

Their expressions immediately after the Ministry Ceremony had successfully made Harry feel guilty also. It wasn't that he went looking for trouble, and he _had_ promised them that he would try not to get into dangerous situations; but trouble always seemed to find him. It always would until Voldemort was defeated – no, killed. There was no point skirting around the truth, or trying to make it sound less unpleasant. If he did kill Voldemort, would he have nightmares about it? For some reason Harry doubted it.

Nightmares were for deaths of people like Sirius, or Cedric, or his parents. People like Voldemort didn't deserve to have their deaths commemorated by bad dreams. He wondered how Ginny coped with her nightmares, as she brushed away a strand of loose red hair from her cheek. His nightmares of Sirius had been painful, and lasted for far too long, but he rarely had them now. If Ginny was still dreaming of the Basilisk's attacks after three or four years…

He remembered how scared the idea that Voldemort might use him to attack his friends, and fellow students had made him last year. Ginny had had to live those fears. She would have seen her fellow Gryffindors being petrified, imagined them dying, seen Hermione lying cold and stiff on the floor...

_Harry… You almost died trying to save her life. How do you think she feels?_

That's what Hermione had told him. Did Ginny see Harry as one of the victims in her nightmares? He felt his cheeks warm, and, realising he was still looking straight at Ginny, looked away.

_I don't… don't want to go to sleep, and not be able to wake up._

That's what Ginny had said when Harry had suggested a potion to help her sleep. He hadn't even realised that he had said the same to Madam Pomfrey until now.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So what did happen?" Harry asked, and then continued in irritation at the glances he saw shared between the Weasleys. "Look, I'm not still so weak that you can't even talk about it to me."

"Well, not the rubbish the Prophet printed, anyway." Fred scoffed. "They claimed that attacks at Azkaban and the Ministry were repelled; there wasn't even an attack at Azkaban."

"Most of the names of killed and captured Death Eaters they gave came from our shop." George said in disgust. "There were only a couple others, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were fake names. There was that guy that died in the fight with you, Harry, someone Higginbotham, but as far as the Order can tell, all the other Death Eaters pulled out pretty quick."

"Higginbotham?" Harry asked, with a mirthless laugh he had unconsciously picked up from Sirius.

"What?" Ron asked.

"We heard them talking before we fought. This guy, Higginbotham, was laughing that Bellatrix Lestrange's husband had been killed by a kid. Saying that she couldn't be as powerful as everyone said. Kind of ironic really."

"Sounds like you did us all a favour, Harry." Fred told him.

"But how did they get into the Ministry?" Harry asked, shaking his head.

"Inside help." George said. "Only way they could have. And someone well placed in the Ministry too."

"Someone weakened the wards in one place, so that the Death Eaters could apparate in, and took out the wards preventing Portkeying out, without any other wards realising. To do that, someone would need access to the place the Ministry's wards were set, and you can bet that that would be a secret and well guarded."

"They just apparated behind the Aurors, did what they wanted to do, took out the few Aurors left, and Portkeyed out again when you and Percy gave the alarm." George explained.

"How many Aurors died?"

"Twelve, including an Order member, and two people missing. Probably Death Eater spies, which would explain why no one realised what was happening. Pretty much everything was destroyed or taken, which means that anything the Ministry was trying to keep secret is now known about; they've lost all their information on Death Eaters, or even common criminals; some things from the Department of Mysteries are missing, but not much, thankfully; well, you get the idea."

"They knew where everything was stored, and Percy says that not even the Heads of some of the Departments knew that. He knew a couple of the important places, being an Undersecretary, but most people didn't even know where one was." Ginny told him.

"So one of the Heads is probably a Death Eater." Ron summarised glumly.

"At least one." Fred added, to a scowl from Ron.

"But he didn't attack Azkaban?" Harry asked.

"No," Fred shook his head, "the Ministry thought You-Know-Who might try to free his followers again, so they doubled the Aurors there. That's why there weren't enough everywhere else."

"But if they found a plan of the new Azkaban…" Ginny started to say.

"… Then all the thousands of Galleons the Ministry spent on it is for nothing." George finished for her. "Exactly."

"So much for Scrimgeour making Britain safer." Ron said bitterly. "He can't even keep the Ministry safe."

"What's he meant to do?" George asked with a shrug. "Every single Ministry employee was tested with Veritaserum, and Legilimency the night it happened. They dragged people out of bed and everything, but still didn't find any spies."

"You can bet people would have complained about their rights if it weren't for what just happened." Fred added. "But they didn't find anyone anyway."

"_You_ can bet any spy would be good enough at Occlumency to defend against truth potions." Harry told them. "I mean, when I had to take Veritaserum, I could see how it worked, and I'm not that good at it. _And_ I was doped up to high heaven. I might even be able to stop it now."

"And what about the people who did the Legilimency, or were around the Veritaserum?" Ron asked. "I mean, if they're spies, there's no chance anyone would have been found, is there? It wasn't Snape who made the Veritaserum was it?"

"And what if they performed Memory Charms on themselves?" Harry continued. "Voldemort removes them later, and no one else knows. I bet there's a million ways around it."

"It's not very reliable." George admitted with a sigh.

"So what now?" Harry asked.

"We hope Scrimgeour is willing to listen to Dumbledore. The Order are pretty much unaffected by this, so the work we've been doing to reveal Death Eaters is still safe. But the Ministry can't attack You-Know-Who without us, so if Scrimgeour doesn't listen to Dumbledore…" Fred shrugged.

"But the Ministry isn't going to be able to do anything anyway, are they? If they've lost everything, they'll be in chaos." Ron interjected. "V-V- He's just being patient, so he can get rid of everyone in one move."

"Well we're not just going to be standing here doing nothing, Ron. We have had him on the back foot you know – that's the first big attack he's pulled off, apart from the Azkaban breakout."

Ron glared at Fred. "Well, since he's come back, he's just been getting into a stronger and stronger position, hasn't he? He's not going to do anything big unless he's sure he's going to win."

"Well, we rounded up a group of Death Eaters, and captured a load more in the Hogsmeade attack, didn't we?" George said, a little defensively.

Ginny looked like she had been about to say something, but shut her mouth tightly at that reference.

"Who'd you capture?" Ron demanded. "A few Death Eaters who'd just escaped from Azkaban or just left Hogwarts, and he can probably break them out again easily now anyway."

"He's got a point George." Fred told his twin. "He will keep getting more followers unless we do something that makes everyone think he won't win."

"But what do we do?" Ginny asked.

"I hope Dumbledore knows." Harry answered glumly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Hey, Percy, you don't want to tell us what the most common error when brewing Wolfsbane potion is, do you?" Ron asked from the table he and Harry were working upon their Potions holiday work.

Percy looked up from the book he was reading in irritation. "How would it help you if I just told you? You learn best when you discover things for yourself."

"You're as bad as Hermione." Ron said in disgust. "Pass me that book will you Harry?"

Harry looked at Percy absently. He had been given New Year's Eve and New Year off from the Ministry, but had brought things with him to work on regardless. At present he was sitting with a quill in his hand, and was transcribing from a battered book which looked more like a collection of loose leaves of paper than anything else. Harry had again asked Professor Dumbledore to include Percy for the planned celebration, and he had agreed to make necessary arrangements.

He bent his head once more to his work, as Ron lifted his head from the book again.

"This is useless!" He moaned. "How does Snape expect us to do this essay if our Potions' books don't have anything about it? Harry, at least with this one, we can ask Remus for help."

"Don't count on it." Harry said, without lifting his head. "Remus doesn't make his own."

The doorbell clanged noisily a few minutes later, and Mrs Black's portrait started screaming, causing Ron to make a large mark on his parchment. Harry, fortunately, had still been reading.

Ron cursed, and reached for his wand automatically, but Harry dug him sharply in the ribs, and nodded towards Percy, who had looked up, startled. He didn't think performing underage magic was a good idea around Percy yet.

"Previous owner." Harry said to Percy with a grin. "We haven't figured out how to get rid of her yet."

He walked over to the door, to close it, and shut out the cacophony, but stuck his head out before he did. At the top of the stairs, Hermione's head was also peering out of a room, looking at Mad-Eye Moody, who stomped into the hall.

"Ah, afternoon Molly." He said naturally, as if Mrs Black wasn't screaming behind him. "Left Tonks in charge for a few hours. Would have gone back to my place, but one of my sensors was broken. Might be nothing, but thought it best to report in before I investigated."

"Would you like to wait for someone to go with you?" Mrs Weasley asked, as she pulled at one of the curtains in front of Mrs Black's portrait. "Remus will be back soon."

"Aye, I might do that." Mad-Eye nodded. "Makes sense to have back-up. The last time I had a break-in, I didn't remember much of my next nine months."

He moved forward to help Mrs Weasley, and Harry darted out of the room to help also.

"I might get a bit of sleep, actually, I've got the night shift. Ah, there we go."

"You're on duty tonight as well?" Mrs Weasley asked in a whisper. "Alastor, it's New Year…"

"Exactly, makes sense for the old bachelors like me to be in charge on a night like tonight. These love-struck kids lose focus on nights like this." He gave a grunt of a laugh, causing the curtains in front of Mrs Black to wobble, although thankfully they stayed closed.

"You don't mind if I grab a room do you Potter?" He asked Harry, who shrugged.

Moody nodded, and stumped up the stairs, curtains quivering with every step.

"Mad-Eye." Harry grinned as he closed the door behind him.

He sighed as he took up his books again. After a couple of minutes of fruitless labour, he turned to Ron, who was now gazing vaguely at the snow that was falling outside the window, before melting as it hit an already wet surface. Percy was once more engrossed in his work.

"So," Harry whispered, "what is happening with you and Hermione?"

Ron went red, and glared at Harry. "Not you as well." He sounded thoroughly disgusted.

"Hey, I tried to warn you about the twins, remember?" Harry said shrugging. "But you like her, right?"

Ron's hot face glanced at Percy, and then the door. "Yeah." He said at last. "But you knew that anyway didn't you, thanks to those gits."

"Well," Harry shrugged again, "they might have made it so that Hermione was shown when it was opened no matter what."

"I suppose." Ron grunted.

"So, what happened with you two?" Harry asked.

"We talked." Ron said unhelpfully.

"_And_?"

"And what?" Ron hissed, and then looked at Percy sharply to see if he was listening.

"Well… are you… you know?"

"We talked." Ron repeated.

Harry sighed, and looked back to his book. "Fine, sorry I cared enough to ask."

"We're not going out." Ron said abruptly, cutting through Harry's paragraph a short while later.

"Oh." Harry said, and looked at Ron sympathetically. "Did she say she didn't…?"

"Well, not exactly." Ron said uncomfortably. "I mean, I think she does… might… We just didn't actually say for… but…"

"But what?"

"Well, there's always _Vicky_ isn't there?"

"Ron, Krum's in Bulgaria, he isn't what you're worried about, is he?"

Ron's face screwed up into an anguished expression. "But… Well… It's just…" He looked at Percy and the door again, before turning back to Harry, looking as uncomfortable as Harry had ever seen him. "What do I _do_?"

Harry's mouth opened, and then closed. He tried desperately to keep his face sympathetic, or at worst, keep himself from laughing. He had a feeling that ridiculing Ron would be the worst possible thing he could do. He had to try and make Ron feel better, not worse.

"Ah. Um…" He started at last. "Well, I'm probably not the best person to ask mate, I mean, look how my last relationship ended up? But you have to start sometime." Harry grinned.

"Yeah, but, I don't want to mess it up." He whispered in a tortured voice.

"Look Ron, if you want my advice, then go for it. I mean, what's worse? Being too scared to snog someone for your whole life, or having a lot of practice until you get it right? I seriously doubt snogging's the only reason Hermione might be interested in y-"

Harry broke off, the door had swung open, and the lady in question had just walked through the door, looking breathless. She was carrying a book which looked even tattier than the one Percy was reading from. A couple of pages slipped out of what could only loosely be considered 'bindings', and drifted to the floor. Percy pointed his wand at them, summoned them, and then handed them back to a grateful Hermione.

"You two have to have a look at this." Hermione told them eagerly, placing her burden carefully on the desk.

"We're doing our Potions workHer." Harry told her innocently. "It can't be more important than that. Can it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then her expression of tolerance was replaced by a quizzical expression. Harry followed her eyes to see her looking at Ron's red face nose deep in a book. Hermione shot him a glance, which he returned steadfastly. Hermione was first to look away.

"So…" Harry prompted. "What is it?"

"Oh, um, I- Well I-"

"Hermione," Harry asked with a Weasley twin-like grin, "Are you getting _flustered_?"

Ron finally removed his face from the book to join Hermione in scowling at him. Harry couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

"I was looking through a couple of the books upstairs," Hermione said stiffly, "and I found this. Here, have a look."

Harry glanced at the opening page. It looked almost like a diary of some sort, but was written in a language he didn't understand.

"So, what language is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know." She shook her head.

"So what's so interesting then?" Ron asked.

"Try reading the fourth word in the third paragraph." Hermione told them, with a smirk.

"Sal-at-sar?" Ron asked, peering at the spindly script. Harry and Ron looked at Hermione in surprise.

"Salazar?" Harry asked.

"Hang on, you think _Salazar Slytherin _wrote this?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Not wrote it, no. The person who wrote this signs off at the bottom of each entry.

"Moeeau." Ron read with difficulty, turning the page. "I can't read the first name; Pie-ee-e or something."

"I think," Hermione said carefully, "that his name is Pierre Moreau."

"Those are 'r's?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"So why does this Moreau talk about Slytherin?" Harry asked. "Hermione?" He repeated, when she didn't answer.

Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. "Sorry, it's just I could swear I've heard the name Moreau somewhere before."

"Well I haven't." Ron said bluntly, his face finally starting to return to a normal colour.

"So." Harry prompted. "Slytherin."

"You have a document of Salazar Slytherin's?" Percy asked incredulously. "You should give it to the Ministry – Wizards have been trying to find more about him for ages."

"And Witches." Hermione added tartly. "But it might just be someone saying that they wanted to be put into Salazar Slytherin's house when they went to Hogwarts."

"Anyway, if it should go anywhere, it would be Hogwarts." Harry told Percy. "After all, he is one of the four Founders."

"But the Ministry-" Percy began.

"This house is mine and Remus'." Harry told him sharply. "So _we're_ going to decide what to do with the books in it."

Percy went pink. "I was only trying to help." He said, in a formal but yet apologetic tone.

"Harry knows." Ron told his older brother. "But you've got to remember how the Ministry treated him last year. Besides, the Ministry have enough to do at the moment, don't they?"

Percy sighed. "Isn't that the truth?" He mumbled, picking his quill back up.

Hermione glanced at him, and then said quietly. "I think we should talk about this later."

Ron nodded – one of the conditions for Percy's stay in Grimmauld Place was that he wasn't left alone for any time. "Yes Harry?" He asked.

Harry however, had his eyes closed, and muttered. "Be quiet for a minute, I just thought of something."

Like Hermione, he was sure he had heard of the name Moreau before, and quite recently as well. The talk about Slytherin had suggested an unlikely possibility to him, but if it was true… He concentrated even harder, and the image of the Arch room filled his head. He shook his head at the sound of someone's voice, and the vision wavered slightly.

He forced himself to walk forward, and through a door, and then crossed the room once more. Finally he was where he needed to be.

"…_Mudblood…"_

"… _Who cares…?"_

"… _Slytherin… Students … Antrim… Ara… Legilimency…"_

Too far. Harry drew back, and looked at the door again. Right – he really had to focus now, he knew where to look… The sound of someone speaking intruded again, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, he walked forwards once more.

"_Blood is not everything, Kaen," Shiakana hissed, and it gave Harry faint hope._

"_Where did Salazar go when he left Hogwarts?" Harry asked, at Hermione's prompting._

"_We do not know," Shiakana hissed. "He left to continue his work alone."_

"_Alone?" Hermione asked. "He didn't take any of his students?"_

"_No. Although boys like Moreau and Antrim wished to go, and girls such as Ara and Talen promised to help him expel the Muggleborns. He wanted them to learn enough to protect themselves, and he would not be able to teach and research at the same time. The other Founders were superb teachers, even if they were short sighted."_

Harry opened his eyes triumphantly. "I know where I've heard that name before."

"That's good to hear." Remus smiled. "Now that you're back with us, I was going to ask-"

"Remus," Harry said eagerly, "we need to talk with you and Professor Dumbledore."

* * *

_._

_._

_A/N: Right, hope you enjoyed it!_

_This seems a good time to talk about 'ships'... I'm not a romance fan - ships will not feature strongly in this story, whether Harry or whoever. In any case, I doubt I'd be much good at writing them, after all, I haven't found true love yet myself, or false love for that matter, so it'd be silly to attempt to write about it. (Everybody: 'Awwwww') If you are a romance fan, then I'll leave you to imagine whatever you want - I'm sure you'll do a far better job than me - and if you don't like romance, or any 'ships' that might appear, then there won't be too much to ignore._

_Coincidental that the chess fight mirrored an exchange of three spells that happened in the Ministry fight? Perhaps. In my defence, quite apart from this being a story, it actually makes sense for coincidences like this to happen. It's just a matter of what the coincidence is likely to be._

_Think of it this way:  
There is a chance that a coincidence might happen every second, in fact, every millisecond of the day. Whether it is two people who pick up the phone to ring each other at the same time, a driver prophesies that a traffic light will turn red, and it does. A dog decides it doesn't want to go for a walk, and a crash occurs in the road the dog and owner would generally walk along. There are so many coincidences that might happen, that eventually some will. (Can you tell I was (at least at one stage) a maths geek?)_

_Or to think about it another way... There is a huge box of red balls, and one blue ball. A man dives in, in search of the blue ball. Every red ball he takes out is replaced before he makes the next attampt. Eventually, he will find the blue ball, if given enough time. And then, a 'coincidence' occurs._

_That whole thing is different to fate, which I don't believe in, and contrived 'coincidences' - which in this case would be the twins preprogramming the pieces to react as they did because they knew about Harry's fight (which they clearly didn't). But coincidences which are just that, aren't too surprising._

_I know - I'm rambling. I'll shut up now. Promise._


	23. Duelling Partners

**Chapter 23: Duelling Partners**

Dumbledore and Harry stared at each other across the pit that, along with the Arch contained within, marked the room that was both Harry's least favourite, and most familiar, of the rooms in the Department of Mysteries. For a long while, neither of them spoke or moved.

A pain gradually built up behind Harry's eyes, starting off as no more than an itch, but increasing until tears threatened to make their appearance. With a nod from Dumbledore, the pain disappeared.

"Very good. Your anti-apparition rule should be enough to stop most, if not all, people who might attempt to attack you through Legilimency. At the very least you should gain enough time to fight back."

Harry grinned. The pain didn't particularly bother him, for with almost each one of these 'probes' of Dumbledore into his mental rules, it had taken him a while to threaten to break them. There were still a few rules governing his Sanctuary that were too weak, but, if the truth be known, fewer than Harry had expected. Either that, or the initial techniques he used to weaken the Legilimens were getting exceptionally strong, which came to the same thing.

"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, and raised the wand in his hand to a ready position.

"Impedimenta." Dumbledore said clearly.

"Protego."

Dumbledore was holding back, even in this – Harry's mind – but still the strength of the spell took Harry a little by surprise. Remembering what Dumbledore kept telling him, Harry tried to concentrate on forcing the Headmaster out of his mind, while still paying attention to the duel. A lot of the difficulty in defending the Sanctuary was the mental strain of trying to concentrate on a number of things at once.

"Incarcerus."

"Effringo." Harry replied, meeting the beam of light with one of his own, and dispersing them both.

Dumbledore was walking slowly towards one of the doors. Slowly enough to make Harry feel that his efforts to push him out of his head must be coming to something, but also quickly enough to tell him that he had to do something else to stop Dumbledore from doing just whatever he wanted.

"Flabara!"

The spell was intentionally wild, for, rather than even approaching Dumbledore, it shot in front of him, towards the door. Some dust on the floor flicked up into the air, and started to spin. The wind whipped around in a circle, until, like the swirling of water as it disappeared down a plughole, the mini-tornado bent first one way, and then another, blocking the way to the door while staying fixed to the ground. Harry could feel it from where he was standing; Dumbledore's robes and beard were being pulled sideways.

Harry forced himself to block the next spell Dumbledore sent his way, rather than simply avoid it. If he stepped to his left, he would be further from the door himself, and stepping right would have meant walking into the spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

Dumbledore made no motion with either his wand nor did he speak an incantation, but the spell disappeared as it reached him. Harry immediately cast another spell. Removing the tornado took a little bit of time, and concentration, so Harry hoped that keeping up a barrage of spells might split Dumbledore's concentration enough to expel him from his mind. It would have been a forlorn hope had Dumbledore been using all of his effort, but since he was holding back, maybe Harry would be able to surprise him. And even if Dumbledore did get through the door, Harry might yet succeed – _if it worked, anyway_, he thought with a grin.

The momentary lapse in concentration that that thought caused, meant that Harry had to work quickly to avoid two curses sent his way. Dumbledore was sticking to purely restrictive spells, although he had encouraged Harry to use whatever spell he wanted. The second of the spells Harry had dodged hit the door behind him, and exploded in a flash of blue light, spraying the ground in a sticky substance. Harry was near the outside of the gluey circle, and stepped to his left in order to escape it. Or rather tried to – his feet weren't moving. Narrowly stopping himself from falling, Harry tugged his leg upwards, but to no avail.

The sudden stillness in the air told Harry that the tornado had now disappeared. He pulled his leg upwards again, but, aside from his heel slightly slipping in the shoe, nothing happened. Looking up, he saw Dumbledore open the door, and realised that he had stopped trying to will him out of his head. Dumbledore paused before moving into the room beyond, as he fended off Harry's renewed efforts.

"Resolvo!" Harry muttered, pointing his wand downwards.

He felt the pressure on his feet lessen as the laces untied themselves, and he jumped to the side, slipping his feet out of the stuck shoes, and landing on his socks. The ground was cold to the touch. Another curse shot towards him, and Harry overbalanced as he tried to avoid it, his foot slipping at the edge of the pit, spreading his legs, and sliding down the benches in a most undignified, and just as painful, manner.

As Harry opened his eyes through the pain he saw Dumbledore move through the door. Pushing himself to his feet, Harry flung himself through the curtain in front of the Archway.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Very good Harry." Dumbledore said.

They were standing in the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore was looking at him with an expression of mixed amusement and surprise. Harry, for his part, still had his nose slightly screwed up against the pain of his slide to the Arch, despite the fact that the pain had left as soon as he had left his Sanctuary.

Harry grinned wildly – _he had done it!_

"Unless I am very much mistaken however, you did not achieve this by conventional means." Dumbledore continued. "Would you mind sating my curiosity; for in the one moment I lost sight of you, you successfully ended my Legilimency."

Harry tried hard to stop his mad grin. "The Archway was the one place I hadn't stored anything. I thought people might think it was the obvious place to store things I wanted to hide, so instead I made a rule where it is an exit. If someone moves through it, we leave the Sanctuary."

For a split second, Harry thought he saw something like concern on Dumbledore's face, but so swiftly, and naturally did the Headmaster's face relax, and so genuinely pleased was the smile, that Harry knew he must have imagined it.

"Excellent, Harry." Dumbledore said quietly. "Do you now begin to see why self-taught Occlumens are the strongest?"

"I think so." Harry said, nodding slightly.

"But," Dumbledore pressed, "unless I am grievously mistaken, that was not your only new addition to your Occlumency, was it?"

"You mean it worked?" Harry said, hastily trying to mask his shock.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Unquestionably so. There was a barrier that I had not met before in any of our previous lessons. While it is not particularly strong at the moment, it certainly struck me as being singularly unique."

"Well, I tried to visualise the magic inside of me, and use it as a shield, to deflect the magic of your curse away." Harry said, in an effort to explain. _Or rather squash a load of Golden Snitches together._ "It was just something I thought of…" He trailed off, Dumbledore was nodding.

"Something that was suggested to you from your wandless magic lessons with Professor Aravenne?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

"Well, yes." Harry said, before looking at him in astonishment. "But how did you know that Professor Aravenne was giving me lessons?"

"There is little in this school that I am unaware of." Dumbledore said gently. "Besides, Syde informed me of the events that occurred between you and Mr Malfoy in your duelling session. He spoke of his belief that you should be taught to utilise what was a possible weakness if unchecked."

"Well," Harry said, still amazed, "the exercises reminded me of Occlumency so much, and my Occlumency helped me; so I thought I'd try and do it the other way, and help my Occlumency with the things I was doing with Professor Aravenne."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, shall we try once more?" He suggested.

Harry nodded, steadying himself.

"Legilimens."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Sir," Harry began as the session came to an end, "did the book Hermione find help at all?"

"Not as of yet. It is mainly written in Latin, but unfortunately there is the occasional lapse into language I am unfamiliar with: an obscure dialect with no Muggle point of reference, and only a very few Magical texts to work with. What I have decoded so far, however, suggests that either the diary itself, or the library it came from, may be of very great use. Moreau seems to have studied under Slytherin as one of the first Hogwarts pupils, and if my suspicions are correct, he or his progeny may be the first Blacks."

"Um," Harry said guiltily, "sorry for not telling you about the library sooner, we just assumed that Sirius must have known, seeing as it was his house and all. We thought you just didn't tell us because some of the texts there might have been in the Restricted Section here."

"I told you Dumbledore," Phineas Nigellus' reedy voice said from his portrait, "this is why I despise working with children. Not only do they always assume they know better than you, but they also assume that if they are not told something it is because it is forbidden due to pettiness, and not because their betters are unaware it exists."

"Phineas." Dumbledore said in warning.

"Of course, immediately they think it is forbidden, they have to explore it themselves to its fullest."

"Well, why didn't _you_ tell Professor Dumbledore then?" Harry demanded of the portrait. "Aren't you meant to help the current Headmaster?"

"Haven't you been listening, boy?" The portrait said contemptuously, "I was unaware it existed."

"That is enough, Phineas." Dumbledore said curtly. "Whether the location of the library was only passed on to certain people, or whether it was forgotten over time, we are unsure, Harry; and, with the Fidelius charm in place, it is immaterial at this point. If there are people who knew of the secret library in Grimmauld Place, they cannot access it now. As it is, we may now have a concrete lead in our search for Salazar's Scrivenings."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So, how did it go then Harry?" Ron asked

"Pretty good." Harry grinned. "I managed to defend myself the first time. Didn't get close to doing it again mind, but still…"

"Well done mate!" Ron said, impressed. "Did he mention… you know?" He nodded his head to the side, as if gesturing towards something.

Harry nodded. "Nothing yet, but he thinks it might be useful."

They were prevented from saying anything else, by Neville's sudden appearance.

"So," He began, "do you guys think you'll be ready for the duels?"

Professor Aravenne had announced a duelling tournament for the sixth years, to be started the next week. This had been the cause of tremendous excitement for nearly all of the students in the year, although Lavender was looking rather glum in the corner. Harry felt rather awkward about it, for she had been as excited as the rest of them, until she found that she would have to face Harry if she won her first round match (against one of the two Gryffindor girls Harry struggled to remember the names of, even after five and a half years – although to be fair they didn't spend much time with their classmates).

Ron and Hermione faced the possibility of facing each other for a spot in the quarter finals, if they won their respective duels, where the two best Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins would be drawn against each other. Draco Malfoy was already promising to beat Harry if they fought. Harry still wasn't sure whether Hermione and Ron were going out or not yet – there was no sign of anything even in private with him, but their Prefect patrol did seem to have taken longer than usual that evening.

"Ready as I'll ever be now." Ron answered, before continuing wickedly. "You'd better watch out Neville – I want a chance to teach Malfoy a lesson."

Neville, however, wasn't as cowed as he might have been a year ago. "I'll do my best." He shrugged. "I'm better than I used to be, anyway. Who are you duelling, anyway Hermione?"

"Parvati." Hermione said vaguely, glancing up from the book in front of her.

Neville blinked. "You're confident."

"What?" Hermione asked, in mild confusion. "Oh. No, I was just reading."

"Chapter Seven: Duelling Strategies." Ron read over her shoulder.

"Haven't you memorised that chapter yet?" Harry asked, grinning.

"No, not yet." Hermione answered absently.

The three boys sniggered.

"So, Harry," Neville began, "what happened at the Ministry?"

Harry had wondered who would be the first to come straight out and ask. None of the papers had been informed that Harry had been involved in the fighting, or that he had been badly injured – thanks in no small part to Hermione – but it was common knowledge that Harry had been the 'Guest of Honour' who had received Sirius' posthumous medal. Most of the papers had mentioned rumours of his involvement, and that had been inevitable. Despite not pressing Harry for details, Luna had asked for confirmation of a joint attack between Inferi, and Heliopaths that one of their writers claimed had been stopped single-handedly by Harry.

"Daddy will be disappointed." She had said regretfully when Harry shook his head. "Karl Fuller has always been one of our best writers."

Luna and Neville weren't the only interested people. Harry had felt eyes upon him in his entire Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, and had heard whispers in Charms and Herbology. Stories were going to make the rounds in Hogwarts no matter what he said, but if he stayed completely silent, they were likely to get ridiculous.

He shrugged. "Death Eaters attacked the Ministry, but Professor Dumbledore and the Aurors stopped them eventually. They didn't get through to the ceremony itself, if that's what they were after." He said evasively.

"But did you f-"

"Weren't you there, Neville?" Ron interrupted. "I thought you said that you and your Grandmother had been offered a seat by some friends?"

"Not friends." Neville grimaced. "Gran can't stand them. They're Slytherins."

Ron already knew that of course – Neville had mentioned to Harry that he wanted to go, but didn't think they would, before the holidays.

"Lucky really then." Ron suggested; but Harry knew him too well not to hear the frustration in his voice.

"Yeah. You guys were okay though?"

"Well we're in one piece still, aren't we?" Harry grinned casually.

Harry knew that if Neville insisted on asking more questions, that he could say he didn't want to talk about it, and Neville would respect that. The problem would come when everyone else started to pluck up their courage.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Today," Snape began, "we shall be making a lesser truth serum – the Percontor potion."

Harry sighed in relief. Practical lessons were far easier to bear than theoretical ones.

"The Percontor Potion is one of the stronger of the lesser truth serums," Snape continued, "for while, like all lesser truth serums, there are a number of potions that can be pre-taken daily to counter the effect; only an organised, practiced mind can defend itself unaided. The instructions are on page two hundred and forty of your Potion's book."

There was a loud rustle, as all the students flicked through the book's pages to the right spot.

"You will notice," Snape said without raising his voice, and causing the sound in the room to dip in order to hear what he had to say, "or at least, the more observant of you will, that this potion requires a pure silver cauldron; any other metal will taint the Percontor potion. As a result, you will each take a cauldron from these."

Snape waved his wand, and a number of silver cauldrons appeared behind his desk.

"I will be inspecting each cauldron personally for signs of misuse." Snape threatened. "Collect your cauldron and begin."

"Merlin." Ron said, under his breath. "Have you seen the amount of ingredients?"

Harry glanced at his textbook, and groaned.

"Well, we'd better get a move on then." He said, standing up to get a cauldron.

Halfway through the double period, Hermione was still adding ingredients and stirring, adding ingredients and simmering, and as often as she could, throwing hurried glances at the instructions. The pile of ingredients in front of Harry and Ron were much larger than hers.

"There's no way we'll get this done in time." Ron groaned. "There's no point in even bothering to try. Snape must have known this was impossible to do."

"Probably." Harry agreed. "So he probably wants an excuse to take points from Gryffindor. Come on, we might as well see if we can piss him off by getting close."

He swept half of his finely cut ironroots into the cauldron, and looked up just in time to stop Ron putting all of his in at once. He chanced a glance around, despite his pronouncement to get as close to finishing the potion as possible, and saw most of the students likewise hurrying to complete the concoction. Malfoy, however, and a couple of the other Slytherins looked like they were taking their time. Harry cursed them, and Snape's favouritism under his breath, and bent back down to his work.

"Finish what you are doing." Snape commanded them, well before the period came to an end.

Harry quickly extinguished the flames beneath his cauldron, and put the last of his newt's tail in, wiping sweat from his brow. Beside him, Hermione was still carefully stirring her potion, which was silky smooth and a dull green colour. Harry glanced at his bubbling orange mixture ruefully. Even had he had the extra hour he needed to complete it, he must have made a number of mistakes. Ron's was a little greener than his, which Harry took to mean was slightly better.

"Those few competent potions brewers among you," Snape began, "will have noticed that the time needed to prepare the potion is only marginally less than the time I gave you to make it. Similarly, these rare, intelligent, beings will have understood that when brewing a complex potion for the first time, they are more likely to make mistakes. While the rest of you dunderheads were throwing ingredients in to your cauldrons, or stirring clockwise instead of anticlockwise, these students were ensuring that their potion was of as high a standard as the time allowed."

Harry could see Malfoy smirk in the direction of the girl sitting beside him.

"If we were the ones who were nowhere near finishing, he'd be saying the opposite." Ron mumbled bitterly.

Snape didn't hear the words, but looked at the back table none the less.

"Miss Granger." He barked. "I believe I told you to finish what you were doing."

"I am, Professor." Hermione replied, in a tired voice. "I began the final stirring just before you told us to stop."

Snape stood up, and walked slowly to the back table. Harry saw him sneer as he glanced at his and Ron's efforts, and then his eyes narrow as he reached Hermione's. He studied it carefully while Hermione made the final stir, and then withdrew his wand, making a circular motion around the cauldron rim, which gleamed slightly as he finished the spell.

"It is not poisonous." Snape said with a cold smile. "A test, I think, to see whether Miss Granger has been lucky enough to succeed, or whether, like the majority of you, she has made errors thanks to her heedless desire to finish the potion before the end of the class."

He conjured a vial out of thin air, and dipped it into Hermione's cauldron.

"Let me see." Snape said, stepping backwards, and looking at the class for a victim. "Mr Potter." He said, after a moment's thought, and stepped forward to place the vial in front of Harry.

"Sir?" Harry asked politely, but unable to stop his eyes from narrowing, or an inflection of coldness in his tone.

"Drink, Potter. You shall show us whether or not your friend has in her cauldron a Percontor potion."

Harry hesitated.

"Drink, Potter." Snape repeated, in a dangerous voice. "Or are you a coward –" he lowered his head and his voice so only Harry could hear him, "– like your dear Godfather was? Don't worry Potter, you can always run to your precious Werewolf or Ministry fanclub."

Harry glared at Snape's face, trying to convey the utter hatred he felt for the man through his eyes, before reaching forward, and downing the potion in a large gulp. Snape smiled.

Harry shuddered involuntarily as the liquid slid down his throat. It wasn't that it didn't taste nice – it didn't actually taste of anything – or that it was too cold, he just… shuddered. The picture of the Arch room overlaid itself on top of Snape, and Harry closed his eyes in order to see it more fully. A black shadow was motionless in the middle of the pit.

"Open your eyes, Potter." Snape barked.

Harry's eyelids snapped open. "Why, sir?" He asked coldly.

"Because your teacher told you to." Snape answered calmly. Harry heard Malfoy snigger.

"With most truth serums," Snape told the class at large, "a subject unskilled at defending themselves mentally will generally close their eyes. This should be avoided, for as well as aiding them in concentration, the giver of the potion loses the ability to judge the potion's effectiveness by study of the subject's pupils if this happens."

Harry glanced to his left, where Hermione and Ron were sitting, and they nodded at him. He knew he had allowed Snape to goad him far too easily, and he probably shouldn't have drunk the potion, but Ron and Hermione were there if Snape tried anything. _And Dumbledore still trusted Snape_.

He turned back to the oily haired Professor, vision still slightly obscured by the Arch room, and the black shadow within.

"What is your name?" Snape asked sharply, and Harry sensed the shadow start to move. Harry tried to concentrate on forcing it out. It slipped under a door.

"Harry James Potter." He heard himself say.

"Where do you live?"

"Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Harry answered immediately.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry had a feeling that it couldn't bode well.

"Who do you live with?" He asked.

"My Aunt and Uncle, and their son."

Harry cursed inwardly, he had to stop this, who knew what he might say about his past? He tried to mentally step through the Archway. The vision disappeared, leaving a crystal clear image of the Potions' classroom.

"Do you like your relations?" Snape asked, and Harry heard Malfoy, and a couple of the other Slytherins laugh.

Harry closed his eyes again. The Sanctuary had just reappeared, as had the shadow.

_Stupefy!_ Harry thought.

"Potter! Open your eyes!" Snape said angrily, just as the curse passed through the shadow.

Harry felt his eyes being forced open by magic, and heard the sound of Slytherin laughter. He vaguely saw the outline of the shadow slip under another door, and tried to move forward to follow it. His perception of the silhouette of his Sanctuary moved, and the door drew closer.

"No."

The Slytherins laughed again. "Why not?" Snape demanded.

_I won't answer. I won't-_

"They've never liked me since I was a baby."

"Haven't you proved that Hermione's potion works?" Ron said angrily.

"Silence Weasley, and do not interrupt me again." Snape said icily. "The true test of a truth potion comes when the subject is forced to say something he or she truly does not wish to. Now, Potter, tell me about your 'family'."

"No." Harry spat.

"Let me rephrase that: what kind of person is your cousin?"

Even as his mouth opened to speak words that would bring years of mirth to the Slytherins, Harry focussed upon opening the door the shadow had gone through in his mind. As he concentrated upon it, his Sanctuary came more into focus, and Snape's hooked nose, and pale features became less obtrusive.

Harry opened the door, feeling strangely detached from his mouth, which was still speaking mortifying words. The black shadow was standing in front of an open door, some small part of it the other side, as it searched through the memories of Harry's time with the Dursleys.

_Impedimenta!_ Harry thought.

The light of the curse went straight through the shadow, and disappeared in the nothingness that seemed, to anyone standing in the Arch room, to be on the other side of the door.

_Stupefy! Falxia! Reducto!_

None of the spells had any effect. Harry cursed internally, while his voice continued to answer Snape's questions. He tried to close his eyes in order to concentrate upon forcing the potion out of his head.

"Harry!" He heard Hermione gasp. "His eyes – they've rolled back, he ought to go to Madam Pomfrey sir!"

"Mr Potter is fine." Snape snapped. "Your potion is obviously substandard Miss Granger, for the Percontor potion should limit eye movement. We shall soon see exactly how substandard it is. Ten points from Gryffindor for your interruption." His voice became snide once more. "So Mr Potter, where exactly did you live while you were growing up? The dog's kennel perhaps?"

Harry's temper boiled up. He would not let Snape make fun of him any more. This shadow was going to leave his head, and then he was going to hex Snape, and take pleasure in it. The shadow flickered.

"N- No." Harry said aloud.

"No?" Snape asked, "Where did you live then?"

"No. I'm not answering any more of your questions." Harry snarled.

The room was silent, as Snape casually looked towards Hermione. "As I feared." He said in a pseudo-regretful tone. "A pitiful attempt. Perhaps Potter was merely attempting to make it appear that you had succeeded, Miss Granger. One last chance, I suppose. Mr Potter, tell me, have you ever killed anyone?"

The black shadow moved away from the doorway slowly. Harry could tell that he was winning, but no spell of his would slow it down. A flash of green lightning appeared in his peripheral vision as Snape suggested he was a murderer, and before he realised what he was doing, a green curse sped out of his wand towards the shadow, through it, and then destroyed a small chunk of the wall behind it. The broken stone in the Archroom rematerialised moments later.

Harry shook his head. _Flabara._

The fixed tornado he had used against Dumbledore the day before spun into existence in front of the shadow. The black shape flew into the air, caught in the whirlwind, until; finally, Harry forced it out of his head.

He blinked, shuddered, and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs between his ears. The entire classroom was silent, and, Harry realised, all staring at him. They were still waiting to hear his answer to Snape.

He glared into Snape's hateful eyes. "Do you include Voldemort, _sir_? After all, his body died, even if he has come back."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he lifted his chin slightly, in order to stare at Harry from an angle. "I see." He nodded, as if to himself, before turning to Hermione. "Miss Granger, your potion is a failure. I want at least two scrolls on the importance of proper preparation before, and due care to instructions during, potions making, by next week.

"The rest of you will stopper a vial of your potion, along with a description of where you have reached, to be handed up as you leave. Clear your things away. Now."

Almost unconsciously, Harry reached for his wand, but had to quickly stifle his grunt of pain behind his hand, and turn it into a clearing of his throat. Hermione had just stepped on his foot.

"Tell Dumbledore!" Ron said, as they hurried out of Snape's classroom, both Ron and Hermione almost having to jog to keep up with a fuming Harry.

"There's no point." Harry snapped, and then caught himself and took a deep breath. "Look," he said in a calmer tone, "last time I told Dumbledore Snape was a traitor, he basically told me I was wrong, and not to mention it again."

"Tell Professor McGonagall then." Hermione said immediately. "Even if that doesn't mean he is a traitor – which it doesn't – he still shouldn't be allowed to treat students like that."

"If I tell McGonagall, she tells Dumbledore, and it's the same thing. I don't want to look like I'm looking for sympathy, especially after all that stuff your potion made me say." He slammed the door of the secret passage they were entering behind them, as Hermione walked through it.

She jumped out of the way, with a tortured expression on her face. "I'm sorry Harry. I didn't mean it to-"

"I know you didn't." Harry said irritably. "It's not your fault, it's Snape's. I bet he planned it that way. Your potion was bound to be the best, so either he embarrasses me, or has a go at you. Or both." He started walking quickly again. "There was nothing wrong with your potion Hermione. I bet he couldn't make one that good."

"Well you have to tell someone, mate." Ron said. "At least tell Remus."

"Maybe." Harry said, still fuming.

"Tell Remus, Harry." Hermione urged, panting slightly in the boys' wake. "Or if you don't, we will."

"You can't keep that mirror hidden." Ron told him cheekily. "Or else we can always use an owl."

"What is it you told me about it not being my choice what other people did, and that I wasn't their parents?" Harry demanded.

Ron and Hermione had the grace to look a little sheepish.

"You know it's just because we're worried about you." Hermione reminded him.

Harry shook his head in angry resignation. "Fine. I'll tell him. Maybe."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Now." Aravenne said firmly.

_Right hand._ Harry thought desperately, and then spoke aloud.

"Lumos."

He opened his eyes. His hand was glowing dimly.

"Good." Aravenne nodded. "Now, cancel it."

Harry closed his eyes, and searched for the magic in his right hand.

"No." Aravenne said after a second, causing Harry to open his eyes. "Don't look for the magic, know where it is. If you want to cast a spell, or cancel one of your own wordlessly, then you need to know where the magic is without thinking about it. If you need ten, five, or even one second to cast your spell, then it is useless in a battle. It's flashy, but that's all it is. Now. Cancel the spell."

Harry nodded slightly, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine the exploding of the dot of Snitches that signified the Lumos spell.

"Nox."

Harry opened his eyes. His hand was still glowing faintly. He closed them again.

_The magic is in my right hand. Right hand._

"Nox."

He opened one eye this time, to see that his hand was still alight.

"I can't do it." He said in frustration, after the fifth failed attempt. "Not without finding the magic, and cancelling it like before."

"Of course you can't." Professor Aravenne said mildly. "Or rather you can't yet. It takes time, and practice in order to train your subconscious, and the best way to do that, is to master the simple spells, before you move onto others. Once we continue onto other spells, we add yet another layer of difficulty."

"Okay." Harry said, disappointed; he had asked Aravenne if he thought he had been ready to move onto casting other spells. He sighed, before asking resolutely. "So what do I do?"

Aravenne smiled.

"Close your eyes."

Blackness.

"I want you to slowly trace the route to your right hand. You know this route, you know every millimetre of it. I want you to skip ahead to your shoulder, your elbow…"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Enough." Aravenne said gently.

"But I'm getting closer." Harry said in a mixture of eagerness and frustration.

"Giving yourself a headache from non-stop concentration is not the best way to learn to become a Virgaemin." Aravenne told him firmly. "You may certainly practice in your own time, _but_," he continued sternly, "not when you have been focussed on mental exercises for an hour."

Harry grinned reluctantly. "Yes sir."

"And do not expect any extensions on any homework I set, because you have been working on another of my lessons." Aravenne warned him with humour in his eyes.

"Sir?" Harry began hesitantly, as they both stood up.

"Yes Harry?"

"If my emotions try to make me cast a spell, how do I stop it?"

Aravenne hesitated. "Sit down again."

He looked at Harry seriously for a few seconds, before he too sat, and then opened his mouth to speak.

"Did such a situation happen during your fight with the Death Eaters at Christmas? I believe you killed one of them."

It was a prompt, rather than a question, Harry knew. Harry's own inquiry had already answered it in Aravenne's mind – despite the fact that he had in fact been thinking about the altercation with Snape.

"Yes." Harry said eventually. "I killed one of them. And it did happen then."

Aravenne nodded. "I knew you killed him. Tell me what happened in the fight. And try to relax if you can." He smiled.

Harry suddenly noticed he was sitting on the edge of his chair, and tried to force himself back in his seat.

Aravenne was quiet and attentive throughout Harry's narration, but he gave Harry the feeling that he already knew the facts, but he wanted to hear Harry describe them. More than once at the start of the explanation, he showed a thorough knowledge of what had happened by asking questions relating to facts Harry hadn't mentioned.

"So you saw the shape of the Falxiardor curse in your head, and trusted it, speaking the incantation, and making the wand movement?" Aravenne said, nodding in answer to his own question. "Tell me, what do you think would have happened if you were to have tried to cast another spell?"

"I don't know." Harry said, furrowing his brow. "What would have happened?"

Aravenne smiled. "I don't know either, you are the first person I have talked to who has had this problem. Of course, the nature of the problem is that it is very difficult to recreate safely." He considered the question awhile. "I have asked myself this before, of course, but I was interested to see how your wandless magic would show itself.

"I would suggest that at present, any attempt to cast a different spell to the one your emotions wish to cast would have only limited success. It may lessen the power of the curse, but I doubt it would negate it."

"So what do I do?" Harry asked.

"What you are doing now." Aravenne said simply. "Once you have mastered our current subject, we shall have to do the same with the other stages you use to interact with your subconscious, and it with your magic. When you are able to cast a wandless spell in a short timeframe, with your eyes open, you should have little difficulty in controlling it, in manipulating the shapes of the curses you see, completely."

He chuckled at the expression on Harry's face. "It's not as bad as it sounds. You have shown remarkable aptitude for the subject, and as the 'Scourge of the Dark Lord', as some papers have reported you, I am confident in your abilities."

Harry said nothing, and Aravenne, obviously taking his silence as his unwillingness to be thought of as a hero laughed again.

"A reputation is no bad thing Harry. I knew an Auror of sorts in America – more of a bounty hunter I suppose – and she was one of the most feared women in the country. She was good – we duelled each other with Abramites – but most of her captures or kills came from her reputation, rather than spells. Most of the people she duelled believed her to be the better magician before they even cast a spell."

"So they feared her name rather than the things she did?" Harry asked. "You mean like with Voldemort?"

Aravenne shook his head bitterly. "Unfortunately, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named deserves the fear he is given. He has done things no man or woman should ever do."

He stopped, and held Harry's eye. "But do not fear your own reputation. Knowing your reputation and using it, does not mean you are arrogant, or cocky. It is a tool, not something to be ashamed of. If you think you can't beat someone, you won't. That works for other people, as well as you."

Harry gave him a disbelieving look. "I can see the Death Eaters shaking in their boots right now."

Aravenne shook his head. "You do yourself a disservice Harry. I fancy that there are at least five people out there telling their fellow Death Eaters how Harry Potter faced them when he was outnumbered, and outmanoeuvred, and yet he still killed one of their number, and severely injured another before escaping. There will also be another with a wooden leg in testimony to your duelling ability."

It took Harry a moment to appreciate what Aravenne had just said. "Wooden leg?"

"Your blade jinx worked exceptionally well." Aravenne said quietly, watching carefully to see how he took the news.

Harry let out a deep breath as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Nice one!" Harry yelled to Dean from his Firebolt.

He had been closing in on the Snitch, when Dean had appeared and sent a Bludger skimming through the air in front of him, blocking him off. By the time Emily Crowley had caught him up, she was able to obscure his vision just enough to prevent him from finding it again. Harry shot through the air in the direction the Snitch had taken, but, not seeing it, rose back up into the air to give himself a bird's eye view of the pitch.

Ron had managed to get the match balls to practice with today, in order to really put the team and subs through their paces. The practice balls could be controlled, or limited by spells – the match balls were warded, and, judging by the pace of the Snitch and the Bludgers, quicker too. Dean was peppering Harry with one of the Bludgers, and he had spent at least the last twenty minutes keeping one eye on the Beater and bat.

"Good save!" Ron called down the pitch appreciatively to the reserve Keeper, Romilda Vane.

Harry turned reflexively to the goal, to see Romilda pass the ball to Ginny, who tucked the ball under her arm, and flew forward with a burst of speed. Hearing a loud thud from his right, Harry turned in time to see another Bludger heading towards him, hit by Dean once more. He only moved forward to dodge it by virtue of his Seeker's reactions, but even he wasn't fast enough to avoid it completely.

It smashed into the bristles of the Firebolt, causing a musical sound to ring out into the air as the broom's charms kicked in to protect itself, and sent Harry spinning. Hanging on tightly, he didn't try to force the broom against its momentum, but instead control it, turning it into a shallow dive, and then righting himself. Avoiding the returning Bludger with a Sloth-Grip roll, he rose back into the air.

"Watch what you're doing Dean – we need our Seekers intact!" Ginny yelled with a note of warning, as Seamus smashed the Bludger towards the other end of the pitch.

"Oi!" Ron shouted, even louder, "It's only a practice – save your murderous rage for the matches mate!"

Harry just gave a wry grin. "Damn Dean, you're on fire tonight."

Dean simply offered a slight shrug to Ginny, and rose back into the air. Harry wiped his forehead with his arm, and got back to the task of hunting the Snitch. The workout meant that the freezing cold January afternoon felt more like summer to him.

"Hey, Harry!" Seamus yelled to him, signalling that Emily was chasing the Snitch.

With a small sigh, Harry bent down to the broom handle, and accelerated in pursuit, avoiding another Bludger as he went – it was as if Dean was keeping a ready supply of them in his pockets. Katie Bell and a couple of other Chasers moved in between Emily and the golden, winged ball, causing the young first year to veer up in what Harry felt was an unnecessarily cautious manoeuvre, and allowing him to gain distance and speed on her.

He glanced back behind him to check for Bludgers, and then urged his broom forward once more, until he was chasing Emily's coattails. He could see the Snitch now, feet away from her outstretched right hand. He would need unbelievable luck to grab it first. They were approaching Ron's goal hoop now, so the Snitch might swerve to stay in play if it could stay free for the next fifty yards.

The crunching sound of wood on ball behind him caused him to dive instinctively. Harry looked up as the ball shot over his head, and couldn't help but wince at the sickening smash as it hit the young first year's outstretched arm.

"What the hell was that Dean?" Ginny roared over the sound of Ron's whistle.

Emily had managed to stay on her broom, and was hovering down to the ground one handed, with a very pale face. Harry shot forward to help her, ignoring the sound of the angry voices of the two Weasleys. She dismounted carefully, holding onto her broom so tightly with her left hand that her knuckles had turned the colour of her face. She cradled her arm in front of her, and Harry steadied her as she swayed from the pain.

"You have about as much luck as I do with Quidditch accidents." Harry told her gently, trying to provoke a smile.

She managed the faintest glimmer of a grin, before her stomach contracted, and she bent forward to vomit.

"Here, sit down." Harry said, thinking quickly, and conjuring a stool.

It would only last for about half an hour, but hopefully she wouldn't need it for any longer than that.

"Thanks." Emily winced.

Harry looked up to see the rest of the Gryffindor squad converging, Ginny still quietly berating a rather annoyed looking Dean.

"We'll leave it there for the day." Ron said loudly, as the quick thinking Ritchie Coote stopped a Bludger from approaching the group. "Can I leave you to put everything away Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Right." Ron nodded. "Here, I'll take you up to the Hospital Wing Emily." He glanced around. "Ginny?"

Ron's sister broke off her continued admonishing of Dean. "Yes?"

"Could you come with us, and give us a hand?"

She nodded, with a last glare towards her boyfriend.

"Oh I hate this part." Harry muttered aloud, as Ron, Emily, and Ginny set off to the Hospital Wing, and the rest of the team trooped off for showers. "At least it will test how well I've healed."

He ducked a Bludger, and set off in a crouching run to the box which housed the four balls, and got ready for the inevitable wrestling match that was to come his way.

Feeling both muddy and sweaty, he lugged the heavy box back towards the changing rooms. He didn't understand why no-one had bothered to bewitch it to make it feather light.

"If that's what you think then you've no chance mate. Give up now, 'cos-" Seamus' voice came from behind the door.

"What? Are you saying I'm not good enough?" Dean interrupted heatedly.

"Nah, it was you who just said that, like what? Half a minute ago?" Seamus replied.

"Whose side are you on?"

"No-one's." Seamus said calmly, "This is your problem, not mine. Remember?" He opened the door with his bag on his shoulder, and saw Harry. "Oh, got everything okay?"

"Yeah, just about. Of course, now I need a long shower."

"They're all free, coming Dean?"

Dean was just forcing his robes into his bag. "Yeah."

"This is different." He continued, as the door closed behind them.

"Oh yeah? How?" Seamus asked, their voices dimming as they walked up to the castle.

"You were wrong, I'm not."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Incarcerus." Harry said calmly.

The curse shot out of his practice wand, tying Lavender up tightly, and forcing her to drop her Abramite. The loud gong sounded to signal the end of the combat almost as soon as it began. The bonds around the Gryffindor girl disappeared, and she pushed herself back up off the ground before Harry could so much as move. He stood still awkwardly, allowing her to leave the arena first.

The watching Slytherins laughed and jeered as she approached the stands, although they stopped as Aravenne glanced in their direction. As most of the other Gryffindors were also duelling, she turned to sit with the Ravenclaws, who, unfortunately for her, were sitting on the same side as the Slytherin groups. Harry sat next to Susan Bones, who smiled at him as he sat down.

"That was quick." She remarked.

Harry gave an awkward lopsided grin, but couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound either arrogant, or falsely modest.

"I don't envy the Gryffindors in your side of the draw Harry." Ernie, who was sitting beside her, remarked. "After all, you run the DA, don't you? And then there are the duels you won against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, aren't there?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I've had more practice at duelling then most people alright. But as I said in the Hog's Head, a lot of it is luck."

"I'm not sure I'd call you lucky." Susan said softly, looking slightly behind him, with a sad look in her eyes.

Remembering Susan had not only lost many of her family at the hands of Voldemort, but also her boyfriend, Harry didn't attempt to disagree. He swallowed, and turned to look behind him too. The Slytherins were making faces at him, and laughing, or rather most of them were; a couple of them were studying the duels calculatingly. Malfoy mimed scrubbing the chair in front of him, and Crabbe and Goyle laughed heartily.

"Is it true that Professor Snape forced you to drink a truth potion?" Susan asked him quietly.

Harry turned, and, seeing that neither Ernie, nor any other Hufflepuff was now listening nodded with a shrug.

"Wow." She breathed.

"Wow?" Harry asked, trying not to sound annoyed – to some extent he didn't want to know how quickly the rumours had spread.

"Oh, sorry." Susan said, blushing slightly. "But it was a truth potion, and you stopped it working?"

Harry open and closed his mouth as he tried to think of a way to explain that away. "Er, yeah." He said eventually. "I seemed to be a natural against the Imperius curse, so I guess it's the same kind of thing. Moody, I mean the impostor Moody, said it was my stubbornness in fourth year."

"Oh." Susan said, and paused for a moment. "But there's no way Professor Snape should be able to do that kind of thing."

"It doesn't stop him from doing it anyway." Harry said dryly.

Two more loud gongs sounded from the floor. Ron and Hermione had just won their duels, leaving Dean and Seamus as the only fighters left duelling.

"Well," Susan said, sounding a little nervous, "I guess I'd better get ready, we're duelling next."

"Who are you duelling?" Harry asked.

"Sally." Susan said, glancing to the other end of the row.

"Well, good luck." Harry offered. "I'll let you be."

"Thanks. Good luck to you too."

Harry grinned, and moved back up the row a couple of seats, waiting for Hermione and Ron.

"Well, didn't take long for you two to start fighting this year." Harry said in greeting, as they sat down.

"Ha ha, very funny." Ron replied.

Harry grinned. "Okay you two, no holding back, and no fighting after the gong rings to end the bout."

"He thinks he's really funny today, doesn't he?" Ron said, turning to Hermione. "A regular comedian."

Hermione looked like she was trying to hide a smile. "Okay then, no holding back."

Ron looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. "Fine then. And no complaining when I win."

"If you win, Ron." Hermione said, with an almost predatory smile.

The final gong rang out to end the Dean – Seamus fight. Dean had beaten his best friend, but as he pulled Seamus to his feet, he said something that made Seamus grimace.

"Look mate," He said to Dean's back, loud enough for his voice to carry to Ron, Hermione, and Harry, "you've got to think about-"

He broke off when he saw the three of them looking at him, and made an exasperated motion, and rolled his eyes at them.

"Wonder what that's about?" Harry said, grinning.

"He's probably trying to give Dean a tactics lesson in order to try to beat you mate." Ron chortled. "Looks like Dean wants to do it his own way. You are favourite to win this thing you know, you can't blame them for trying to find a way to beat you."

"Does that mean that when I face one of you two in the final, the two of you are going to plot how to beat me?" Harry laughed.

Hermione smiled. "I guess we'll have to see about that."

She watched Dean and Seamus with a slight frown for a while, before rejoining Ron in a bout of good natured threats for their duel.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Begin!" Aravenne's voice said.

Harry started climbing the plush stairway in front of him instantly. He had already had one duel in this arena, even if it hadn't been a particularly long one, and he also had watched other people duel in it. The staircase he was climbing made little to no noise as he climbed, whereas the one that was closest to Dean's starting position creaked.

They were duelling in a house – one with no exits – that contained a couple of staircases, interconnecting rooms and corridors, and the furniture inside made it one of the most realistic arenas yet. Half was richly furnished; the rest looked like it was in the middle of renovation, with bare floors, and only the simplest gear inside. There were no sounds, except for the ticking of clocks, which meant that most movement could be heard immediately, unless it was soft padding on richly carpeted floors.

As Harry reached the top of the stairs, he turned, and knelt, casting a trip jinx, which should let him know if Dean came behind him. That lesson had been learnt when he, Neville, and Hermione had taken on the Slytherins. Rising, he hurried through a door on his right, and crossed past a very comfortable looking bed, on his way to a door on the opposite wall. It led to an ensuite bathroom, which Harry had found out earlier, was shared with another bedroom. At the exit to that room, began the unfurnished area of the house.

He put out his hand to open the door, but stopped at the sound of a creak from the other side. Creeping backwards once more, he waited for the door to open. The sounds of movement on old floorboards still came from the corridor that ran alongside the room, firstly leading up to the door, and then continuing past it. Returning to the door, he turned the handle slowly. The tread of feet on wood continued.

Harry opened the door inwards slowly, but it did nothing to stop the alarming screech of reluctant hinges. Harry closed his eyes in frustration, flung the door open wide, and stepped into the corridor, pointing his wand the direction Dean had gone.

"Rejicia Maxima!"

Dean, who had immediately shouted: "Protego!" stepped out of the way of the curse as he heard the incantation. He wasn't far enough away to be hit by the bits of debris caused by the explosion, and immediately replied with an aggressive spell.

"Falxia!"

"Effringo." Harry countered calmly.

"Impedimenta!" Dean shouted.

"Protego."

Behind Dean's first curse came another, which Harry hadn't seen the wand movement or heard the incantation for. He stepped sideways, back into the room, and heard the sound of two crashes, one after the other, from where Dean's curse had hit. He slammed the door, which gave another loud moan, and retreated to the bed. He didn't imagine Dean would follow him, for the advantage of position would be Harry's, but he aimed his wand at the door just in case.

Harry backed slowly to the door to the bathroom, ready to cast another trip jinx, to warn him if Dean did come this way. Before he could do so, however, the sound of floorboards warned of the other Gryffindor's approach. Harry readied his wand.

The door shot inwards with a loud crash, propelled across the room by Dean's curse, and flipping onto the bed.

"Falxiardor." Harry muttered, carefully making the slashing movement that went with the spell.

"Bullatueor!" Dean roared.

The cut of the curse made a mark in Dean's bubble-shield, and the flames licked the front of it, but it held. Harry was surprised for two reasons: firstly, Dean had been having trouble with that shield in the DA meetings, and secondly, there were other, easier shields that he could have used, which wouldn't have taken as much effort on his part, and were more suited to block the spell.

But then, Dean didn't seem to be concerned about conserving energy at the moment, Harry noticed, as he wordlessly cast two more spells in quick succession, a scything spell of his own, and an explosive spell. Harry dodged the first, and shielded himself easily from the second.

"Tarantallegra." Harry said plainly, with no attempt to hide the spell.

This time Dean blocked it with a heavy looking golden shield, which was again, far more effort than he had needed to expend to stop Harry's curse. Panting, he pointed his wand at Harry again, and this time he spoke his incantation.

"Pulmelido!"

The yellow curse didn't exactly shoot towards him, but Dean successfully cast it nonetheless. It was fortunate for Harry that the curse wasn't travelling quickly through the air, for it meant that despite the momentary shock at hearing the curse coming from Dean's mouth, he could sidestep it easily. Harry pointed his wand at the floor below Dean's feet.

"Reducto!"

Dean jumped backwards, and Harry used the time to retreat into the bathroom.

"Where the hell did you learn that curse?" He shouted.

Dean replied with a curse. "Rejicia Maxima!"

"Fervelum!" Harry said reflexively, pointing his wand to the side of the wall the curse was going to hit.

Dean's curse hit a mirror, sending showers of glass towards Harry, but they were stopped by a thin metallic film, which rippled as it was hit, but held firm.

"Colloportus." Harry muttered, pointing at the door.

While Dean seemed to be using every difficult spell he knew – or didn't know – and as many as he could wordlessly, Harry hadn't tried anything particularly difficult so far, apart from the last shielding spell, and he felt fresh. If this continued, he knew he would wear Dean out easily, so he was quite content to retreat.

"Finite." He said quietly as he reached the other doorway, removing the sheet of metal.

Like the last door that had been between him and Dean, the bathroom door exploded inwards, smashing against the wall.

"Rictusempra!" Harry said firmly.

"Effringo!" Dean cried loudly.

But Dean's spell wasn't particularly well aimed, and the two curses missed each other in mid-air, hitting the two combatants. Dean's dispersing curse, of course, had no effect on a human being, but Harry's curse caused Dean to back away quickly, trying to hold in the laughter. Rather than following up, Harry retreated once more, certain by now that his opponent would follow him; and, sure enough, by the time Harry had returned to the hallway, Dean's face appeared.

"Densaugeo!" Harry said steadily.

Dean barely reacted in time to the curse that flew quickly through the air, and it only just missed his head. Harry stepped into the hallway, closing the door as he did, and retreated a couple of steps in the opposite direction to the stairs. He would launch his attack when Dean showed.

This time the door swung open in to the room, rather than being blasted off its hinges. Dean was definitely getting tired.

Harry let him poke his head out of the doorway, before yelling, "Colloportus!"

The door behind Dean tried to close, slamming into the Gryffindor, and forcing him into the corridor.

"Farcio!" Harry yelled.

The curse hit Dean in the chest, sending him flying backwards, only stopped by the banisters around the landing. He got up, narrowly avoiding Harry's next curse, but unable to reply with one of his own. Harry had decided now was the time to end it.

"Impedimenta!" He roared.

"Protego!" Dean gasped, stumbling sideways as the shield just about blocked the curse.

"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"

"Protego!" Dean yelled again.

The first curse bounced off the shield, hitting the ceiling, but the second seemed to be absorbed by it, and sent Dean reeling backwards, towards the staircase Harry had climbed at the start of the fight. As Dean's back foot neared the top stair, he tripped, falling over backwards, and tumbling down the stairs. As Harry ran forwards, the gong sounded, and suddenly, he was standing on the bottom floor, a few yards away from Dean, who was lying on the ground.

Harry walked forwards, to give his hand to Dean, and help him up. Dean was looking a little nonplussed.

"What happened?" He asked.

"You fell down the stairs." Harry offered. "I'm guessing either you broke your neck, or were knocked unconscious."

"I fell down the stairs?" Dean said in disbelief. "I don't believe I lost to you by falling down the stairs." He couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice. "I thought I had you."

"'Fraid not." Harry grinned.

Dean sighed in disappointment. "Well, whatever you do, don't let a Slytherin win."

"Definitely." Harry said firmly.

Harry glanced at the other duels. One of them had finished, but Ernie was still duelling, as were Ron and Hermione. He returned to the stands to concentrate on the fight between his two best friends.

Ron energetically dived out of the way of a spell as Harry sat down, and then sent a rejoinder of his own. The curse hit a spot in mid-air in front of Hermione, and, without her doing anything, ricocheted away, causing Ron to duck back down.

He quickly had to avoid a stunner from Hermione, and then banished a kitchen chair in her direction. She scrambled out of the way with a yelp, but was still sent flying as it hit her on the side, forcing her to drop her wand.

Ron paused, as though unsure whether or not to follow up the attack.

"Incarcerus!" He shouted eventually.

The curse light shot towards Hermione, before, at exactly the same point as previously, it hit an invisible barrier and bounced away. Hermione got to her hands and knees, and stretched out towards her Abramite.

"Accio wand!" Ron cried.

It rose reluctantly into the air, and then sped towards Ron, before stopping abruptly in mid-air at the same point as Ron's spells had been blocked. Hermione dived forward, grabbed the wand, and pointed it towards Ron as she fell through whatever protective barrier had been shielding her.

"Arachnis!"

A large spider – large _and_ hairy – shot out of the tip of her wand, landing on Ron's face. Ron's anguished yell was closer to a scream, and he raised both hands to try to brush it away. It landed on the floor a couple of feet away, and he drew back from it, eyes fixed at the way it scuttled across the floor. As a result, he was completely unprepared for the stunner which hit him in the chest.

"What was that charm Hermione used that blocked all of those spells?" Susan Bones' voice asked from beside him.

"Not sure." Harry told her, still looking at the arena, where Hermione was offering to help Ron to his feet. Ron refused. "I'm guessing it was a defensive charm she set up which protected a certain area, but I don't know which one."

He glanced at Susan – she was looking hot, tired, but happy.

"How did you do?" He asked.

"I won." She beamed. "I actually beat Hannah; I _never_ thought I'd do that. I never even dreamed I'd be in the last eight duellists."

Harry grinned. "Well done. I only saw your other duel, but you fought really well in it, so I'm sure you deserve it."

Susan blushed. "Thanks. I'm sure I won't get any further though."

"If you think that, then you probably won't." Harry told her seriously.

Susan started to say something, but stopped. Ron and Hermione were walking towards them. Ron's face was red, and he looked completely embarrassed. Hermione looked a little frustrated.

"Well, good luck for the rest of the tournament Harry."

"Thanks, you too." Harry replied, as Ron sat down.

"That was below the belt Hermione." He grumbled. "You know I hate spiders."

"Boys." Hermione said in exasperation. "Why is it they can never accept defeat gracefully? We agreed we wouldn't hold anything back, and I won because I was better prepared."

"You also agreed you wouldn't argue after the fight." Harry grinned. "She beat you fair and square Ron. Even if it was evil." He added with a snigger.

"Yeah, well, next time I'll attack you with a report card with your name and a load of 'T's on it." Ron said grouchily.

Rather than looking affronted, Hermione smiled.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"You know," Malfoy said loudly as Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed the Slytherin table, "We've been looking for a new House-Elf for a while now, ever since we got rid of the old one. Maybe we should offer the job to Potter – he's had plenty of practice after all."

Pansy Parkinson, and another Slytherin girl laughed shrilly, while Crabbe and Goyle – as usual – guffawed loudly. Of course whether the latter two understood the joke was another matter, Harry thought, as he ignored the jibe. Ron however, didn't.

"Didn't you make history by being the first Wizarding family ever to have a House-Elf hand in its notice, Malfoy? Considering the fact they have to hurt themselves if they even speak badly of their masters, that's quite impressive."

"What would you know Weasley, I bet you haven't even seen a House-Elf in that pig sty you call a house."

"Come on Ron." Harry said in an unconcerned voice.

"See," Draco Malfoy sneered, "he has the _demeanour_ of the House-Elf just right. Call yourself a wizard Potter?"

"Don't mind him Harry, he's just jealous." Hermione said calmly.

"Jealous?" Malfoy laughed. "Of what, Mudblood? Certainly not his taste in friends, anyway."

"Just ignore them." Harry shrugged. "He still hasn't found a decent insult after five and a half years."

"What's the matter Potter, scared?" Malfoy jeered.

Harry turned. "We'll see who's scared if we duel in the tournament."

"You'd better make sure you're there Potter, I've got something to give you from my father."

Harry walked away, ignoring him.

"You're in a tranquil mood today Harry." Hermione observed, as she sat down opposite him.

Harry shrugged. "Look around. Malfoy and his Slytherins are the only people who have mentioned the things I said under the truth serum. They've had a week to insult me all they wanted, and no-one bothered, so why should I care about Malfoy?"

"That's the difference between Slytherins and normal people, mate." Ron said, sitting down next to Hermione.

"What?"

"Well, the Slytherins hear all that stuff, and laugh. Everyone else hears it, and is impressed that you're even here, let alone best duellist for however many years it is since someone got an Outstanding Recognition. And all the other stuff. You know, the stuff about You-Know-Who and all."

"Thanks Ron; I think. I like your prioritising." Harry laughed.

"Anytime. Er, you don't mind if I have a look at your Transfiguration homework a sec then do you?"

"Ron." Hermione said disapprovingly.

Harry ignored her, and rummaged in his bag for a second, "What the?"

"What's up?" Ron asked.

Harry withdrew his hand. Attached to it was a scrap of folded paper. Harry pulled on it, but it was stuck fast.

"Last time I checked, I didn't put any paper into my bag with a sticking charm on."

He took out his wand, and pointed it at the paper. "Finite."

It fell to the table top, where Hermione picked it up curiously, and unfolded it.

"It's a note." She announced, and then furrowed her brow.

"Who've you been writing notes to?" Ron asked.

"No-one. What's it say?"

"It looks like it's been written by a typewriter." Hermione said, puzzled, and handed Harry the note.

_Thursday, midnight: He knows._


	24. Friends and Foes

_A/N: __As always, it is absolutely great as an author to get reviews from the people who read, so a huge thank you to the people who did in the past, or will do in the future._

* * *

**Chapter 24: Friends and Foes**

"Well, it's not mine." Harry shrugged, starting to crumple it up in his hand.

"Give us a look." Ron told him.

Harry handed it over with a shrug.

"How do you know the person who wrote it is a 'Type Writer', Hermione?" Ron asked, before smoothing the paper. "And what exactly is a 'Type Writer?"

"Not a 'Type Writer' Ron, a typewriter. One word, not two." Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, don't you ever listen to your father?"

"Oh… so you mean it's some Muggle thing." Ron said in dawning realisation. "No, I tend to switch off when dad talks about Muggles."

Harry laughed. "Ron, a typewriter is a machine Muggles use to write with. They press a button, and a letter appears on the paper."

"Oh." Ron said, taken aback. "Oh. Those Muggles aren't that stupid are they?"

"No Ron," Hermione said acidly, "or did you think my parents were mindless amoebae?"

Ron blushed. "_Thursday, midnight: He knows._" Ron recited. "Who knows? And what does he know?"

"No idea." Harry said, shaking his head. "I guess it just got in my bag by mistake."

Hermione's brow furrowed as if she didn't think much of that suggestion. "Did it though? What are the chances that a small folded note to someone else, with a sticking charm, would just happen to find its way into your bag by accident?"

"What are the chances that it was put there on purpose?" Harry scoffed.

"A good bit higher." Hermione replied.

"Who says it's even a note?" Ron said suddenly. "Maybe it's just a piece of scrap paper."

"Scrap paper that just happens to be written on by a typewriter, symmetrical in shape, neatly folded, and had a sticking charm placed on it?" Hermione said, probably a little more contemptuously than she had intended; Ron looked very put out.

"Okay, it's a note." Harry said hurriedly. "But come on, if someone sent me a note, then they'd make sure it actually meant something, wouldn't they? More likely it's meant for someone else."

"After they went to all that trouble to make sure you would read it when you tried to take something out of your bag?" Hermione gave him a sceptical look.

"Fine. What does it mean then?" Ron demanded.

"Let's look at it logically." Hermione said.

"I hate it when she says that." Ron muttered. Hermione ignored him.

"Why would someone send Harry a note in the first place? Or send anyone a note for that matter?" She asked rhetorically. "Because they want to tell him something, obviously."

"Well done." Ron said sourly. "I could have told you that."

"But," She continued, still ignoring Ron, "if they wanted to tell you something, Harry, then why write four words that don't really mean anything to you?"

"Exactly." Harry said. "Why would-"

"Bear with me Harry." Hermione interrupted him. "_If_ they were writing a note to you, why wouldn't they make it obvious what they wanted to say, or who it was from?"

"No idea. Maybe they don't want anyone else to know."

"Right." Hermione told him. "So the question is, what are they trying to tell you?"

She fell silent, and, after a few seconds spent expecting her to continue, Ron returned to rereading the note, and Harry repeated the four words in his head. Hermione sat there with an abstract, thoughtful, expression on her face.

"Got anything planned for tonight or tomorrow evening Harry?" Ron asked, suddenly.

Harry shook his head. "No, why?"

"Then it can't be for you. Look Hermione, it's talking about someone knowing about something happening at midnight Thursday." Ron said decisively.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Well if it's not for Harry, maybe it's for someone only Harry could t-" She stopped. "The Order." She breathed, eyes widening again; before glancing around, first to see if they were alone, and then to look at the staff table. "Harry, you have to show this to Professor McGonagall." She hissed.

"What? Why?" Harry asked.

"What if the Order, or the Ministry are planning something, and V- Voldemort knows?"

"Quite likely if it's the Ministry." Ron muttered. "So?"

"So maybe someone wants you to know Voldemort knows, Harry."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Is this all of us then Albus?" Mad-Eye Moody grunted, stepping out of the Headmaster's fireplace. "What about Lupin, or Minerva?"

"No time to wait." Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "Minerva has a class – of Harry's fellow sixth years – and this situation must be dealt with swiftly, and secretly. It would not do, for instance, to recall people at such short notice."

"I notice you didn't worry about interrupting my rest after a long night however." Moody grumbled.

Dumbledore gave an amused smile, Snape made a contemptuous sound, and Harry, the last person in the room, regarded Mad-Eye closely. He didn't look any different – but then his face always had a slightly wild look to it, so perhaps the tiredness didn't show.

"So, what is it?" Moody asked, getting to the point.

"I would dearly like to know too." Snape added, and then sneered in Harry's direction. "Seeing as Potter is also here, I doubt it can be good news."

Harry returned the look with interest.

"That has yet to be ascertained." Dumbledore told him quietly. "At breakfast this morning, Harry put his hand into his satchel, and withdrew this." He held up the piece of paper.

Snape had adopted a position of complete disinterest, and Moody raised his good eye's eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"I take it that this isn't an ordinary piece of paper that Potter just happened to withdraw."

"It appears not." Dumbledore agreed. "And as to the convenience of Harry discovering the note, I do not believe he had much choice in the matter." He read out the four words.

"Rather obtuse for a note, Albus."

"It is." Snape agreed, frowning as if in distaste. "But I'm afraid I see where this is going."

"Quite." Dumbledore replied, and Moody nodded with a crooked smile. "Harry and his friends decided that this couldn't have appeared by accident, and made the creditable assumption that this may make more sense to us, than it did to them."

"Thank Merlin for Miss Hermione Granger." Snape said sardonically.

"So what does it mean then?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time. "Professor McGonagall just told me to come up here instead of going to class but didn't say what it was about."

Moody looked him up and down for a couple of seconds, and then glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Tomorrow night, Potter," Moody began, "In the early hours of the m-"

"Albus," Snape interrupted, "he does not need to know."

Dumbledore looked sternly at Snape, and held his gaze for a few seconds, not looking away even as he spoke in a calm voice. "There are many places, Harry, all over the country, that Lord Voldemort uses as bases from which to coordinate his followers. It allows him to delegate orders without more people than necessary knowing the identities of his Death Eaters. Along with the Ministry, we have been planning an… attack, on one of these 'bases' for many weeks now, to take place on Thursday, at midnight."

"Didn't you know You-Know-Who knew about the attack, Severus?" Mad-Eye demanded.

Harry tried not to grin at the question; instead he contented himself with glaring at Snape.

"I do not." Snape said, putting slight emphasis on the present tense. "Is it not possible that this is mere coincidence Albus? An anonymous note, cryptically worded, is tenuous evidence at best."

"I did not think you believed in coincidence, Severus?" Dumbledore said mildly.

Snape snorted softly. "In general, no. Most of the things people believe to be coincidence, are rather the inevitable occurrence of the workings of their minds. That does not however mean that coincidences cannot exist."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled momentarily, before returning to their more serious state. "That is as may be, but I do not believe this to be a mere occurrence of circumstance." He passed the note to Snape, before continuing. "The note has been printed by a Muggle machine, was intentionally given to the person who has been generating the… most hopeful… newspaper headlines recently, and, despite using magic to accomplish this, has left no discernable traces of the arcane that I can tell. The capitalisation is also most revealing."

"Why use a capital 'h' for the pronoun 'he', Potter?" Snape said in a condescending tone seeing that Harry looked puzzled.

Harry scowled.

"Very well, I will admit the note appears to be genuine, Albus," Snape continued, as if Harry held no importance whatsoever, "but we have no guarantee whether it is intended to aid us, or hamper us. It may simply be a ruse."

"Anonymous tip-offs." Moody agreed. "Merlin how I hate them. Can I see the note, then, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded, and Snape passed the note over. Moody withdrew his wand, and muttered a few words, both eyes staring at the paper in his hands. Harry wondered if his magical eye might be able to detect something Dumbledore couldn't. After a few moments however, Moody shook his head with a grimace.

"I didn't expect to find anything. But it never hurts to double check."

"How about fingerprints?" Harry dared to suggest. "Maybe-"

"Not after you and your friends pawed at it and crumpled it up." Snape interrupted disdainfully.

Dumbledore shot him a warning glance, and then added. "Unfortunately none of the Muggle methods are likely to be of any use at this point. Our apparent friend seems to have taken a great deal of care to keep his or her identity a secret."

"But why send it to me?" Harry asked bemusedly, "I mean, why would they expect me to know what it was about? I could have just thrown it away. Why didn't they give it to someone in the Order?"

"The answer to that is obvious." Snape sneered. "You are the wizard, after all, _destined_ to be the Dark Lord's bane, so _surely_ you'd be able to work it out? As to passing it to a member of the Order, not even the Dark Lord is aware of all of the Order members, and the chance of a student getting an anonymous message through to Albus is slim at best."

"You believe it was sent by a student, do you?" Moody asked dubiously. "They covered their tracks remarkably well if so."

"The alternative can only be one of the teachers, for how else could they have placed the note in Potter's bag? Of the teachers I believe I am the only person with access to the Dark Lord." Snape retorted.

"What about the new Professor?" Moody growled. "Aravenne? No past; that might not even be his real name: perfect candidate."

Dumbledore shook his head. "We have had this discussion before Alastor."

"And you still haven't convinced me Albus, so you'll have to put up with my reminders."

"I do not believe any of the teachers in this school to be in Voldemort's service, and while Syde might conceivably be of a mind to anonymously warn us, he would first have to come by the information."

"And how do you suppose a student could come by this information, that our own little spy was unaware of?"

Harry had the distinct feeling that informants of all flavours, whether anonymous or not, were worthy of mistrust in Mad-Eye Moody's eyes. Although, come to think about it, everyone seemed to be worthy of mistrust in Moody's opinion.

"Why, the same way Harry discovered it." Dumbledore replied mildly. "By being told."

"Hmph. But the question remains," Moody said, "who is our anonymous little sneak?"

"Why try and find out?" Harry found the courage to ask. "Isn't the only thing that matters that they're helping us? They don't want us to know who they are, so won't they stop if we try to find out?"

"Never trust someone you can't see, Potter." Moody said in a tone of rebuke. "If people don't know who you are, or even what your voice sounds like, fooling them is easy."

"As much as I hate to say it." Snape cut in. "Potter may be right to suggest we ignore this for now. We have several more important issues to discuss."

"Such as?" Professor Dumbledore prompted with a slight nod.

"Such as the fact that if the Dark Lord knows tomorrow night's plans, then we have a spy in our midst."

Harry couldn't help himself; before he knew what he was doing, he was mumbling under his breath. "Yeah, but then we already knew that."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, Dumbledore's had a glint of admonition. Moody however let out a loud grunt of a laugh.

"Hah! The boy's right you know Severus."

"The most pressing issue," Snape said in a measured tone, "is what should be done about Thursday night. But that, however, is a discussion that had best take place in private." He finished, pointedly.

"It appears we shall have to delay our meeting this week Harry." Dumbledore said, "The rest of the week is likely to be somewhat hectic. But for now, let us follow your advice, and not go out of our way to discover our mystery friend's identity. That does not, however, prevent you from keeping your eyes and ears open."

Harry nodded.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So, what did they say?" Ron demanded.

Harry glanced around. As was usually the case at lunchtime, the Great Hall was packed, even if there were a couple of empty seats near them.

"Later." Harry said firmly. "When we're somewhere we can't be overheard."

Ron raised his eyebrows but said nothing, instead returning his attention to his plate. Harry, however, let his gaze wander. Up at the staff table, there was no sign of Snape, McGonagall, or Dumbledore, although the rest of the teachers were all there. Aravenne was calmly sipping from a goblet, and looked engrossed in conversation with Professor Sprout, but immediately Harry's gaze moved on, he felt as though Aravenne was returning his look. A double check revealed Aravenne still talking animatedly.

He looked away from the staff table, but couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching him. Could he be imagining it? Or could it be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was wondering if his note had been correctly interpreted? He had always shown respect for Harry's work in his classes, could he have assumed Harry would work out the clue? Regardless, somewhere in the castle – possibly even somewhere in this very room – sat someone who not only was aware of Voldemort's plans, but also wanted to stop them.

His eyes passed over the Slytherin table, pausing briefly on Malfoy, who was – predictably – at that precise moment pointing at Harry, and telling a very entertaining story to his cronies. Their eyes met in an expression of mutual dislike.

_That narrows the amount of candidates to the population of Hogwarts minus one._ Harry thought ironically.

Could the anonymous tipster be a Slytherin? They were arguably in the best position to know things about Voldemort, for, even if they and their family weren't Death Eaters, they might still discover information third hand through Malfoy or his ilk. But Slytherins generally only did things that gave them sizable rewards; and anonymous notes would mean they got nothing – just a freer world for everyone.

"Are you alright Harry?" Ginny's voice broke into his reverie.

Harry looked up, Ginny had just slipped into the chair next to him, a half filled plate in hand. "What? Oh, yeah. Just thinking."

He glanced towards the staff table again, before spotting Dean sitting further down the table, looking rather hot and bothered. A seat next to him had obviously been recently vacated.

"Are you okay?" He responded.

Ginny followed his gaze, and then shrugged, and raised her eyes to the stormy looking ceiling. "I'm fine. Dean's just being… irritating."

"If he keeps annoying you, dump him." Ron said, almost eagerly.

Ginny gave him a withering look. "Yes, because you are so experienced in relationships, aren't you? It's none of your business Ron."

"Well I know enough to know that you two annoy each other so much that you'll never... You're… I mean." Ron struggled to find the right words. "Can you see yourself… with him… in ten years time?"

"Ron-" Hermione said sharply, but her face had a strange tinge of pink to it, and she didn't say anything else.

"My love life is nothing to do with you." Ginny said haughtily, and then continued as Ron opened his mouth once more. "Just like yours is nothing to do with Fred and George."

"What were you thinking about just then, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry got the feeling it was just from a desperate wish to change the subject.

Harry said nothing for a couple of seconds, before, feeling his gaze being drawn towards the staff table again, he said suddenly, "What do you think Aravenne did before going to America?"

"Beats me." Ron said, swallowing a mouthful. "You were in the best position to ask him, but you chickened out."

"I did not chicken out!" Harry said indignantly, causing a few people a couple of seats away to regard him with half-curious, half-amused expressions.

"I didn't chicken out." Harry repeated in a quieter tone. "I just thought that if there was anything worth knowing, then he wouldn't tell me, and I'd just put him on his guard." He sighed, thinking of his discussion with Dumbledore, Moody, and Snape. "Maybe I should have."

"Well, ask him in your next session with him then." Ron suggested.

"We'll talk about it this evening." Harry said with a look, before adding dryly. "And that's only if I have a next session. With the amount of Quidditch practices you're booking up, I might never have one."

As if she had just thought of something, Ginny looked at her brother. "Ron, there's no way we can practice tonight if it stays like this." She pointed to the Great Hall ceiling, which was rumbling like a sleeping beast. "Someone might get hit by lightning."

Ron swallowed a mouthful, and then replied, "We have to be ready to fly in all conditions Ginny, we might end up playing Ravenclaw in weather like this. Anyway, it's not even raining."

"Not yet, but you can tell it's going to lash. And we might end up playing Ravenclaw in clear skies and sun." Ginny retorted. "The game's still a couple of weeks away, we have plenty of time to get soaked to the bone if we really have to. But if someone gets badly injured they might not be able to play."

"Madam Pomfrey would fix them up." Ron said dismissively. "No, I-"

"For Heaven's sake, Ron." Hermione cut in. "What's the point? Practicing is not life or death. You, Harry, Fred, and George were all moaning for days after training in a storm last year-"

Ron opened his mouth indignantly to argue, but Harry interrupted Hermione first, suddenly feeling tired. "You two were arguing all morning, can't you find something else to do with your mouths?"

Ron and Hermione sat gobsmacked, with red, speechless faces, on the other side of the table. Beside Harry, Ginny was trying hard not to choke on a sandwich, tears welling up in her eyes as she grabbed for her pumpkin juice. A second later, Harry realised exactly what he had just said. He grinned innocently, as if he had meant to say it all along.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

It did rain that evening. Or at least, it did if sheets of water descending from the heavens to the accompaniment of flashes of lightning and drums of thunder could ever be described as merely rain. The trips to and from the Greenhouses for Herbology had been nightmarish, and would have been worse if not for an umbrella charm of Hermione's that kept most of the pounding raindrops the size of golf balls away.

Ginny had spent most of dinner with Dean again, their argument, if not forgotten, then temporarily ignored, but by the end of it was locked in persuasive argument with her brother, which meant that she was also in a position to demand that Harry told her what was going on, as well as Ron and Hermione.

The two discussions meant that they were almost the last people to leave the Great Hall; no-one enjoyed eating when lightning was filling the ceiling above them, or rain was bucketing down – even if it did disappear just above their heads.

"Hermione," Harry began quietly, as the four of them walked back to Gryffindor Tower, "have you found a way to make everyone think we're talking normally, while we can still know what they're doing, yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's still the best secrecy spell I could find. Even the way your Dad and Sirius found to talk with the mirrors can still be spied on, or at least, the way I think they did it; they just deaden the noise to barely aud-"

"Damn." Harry said under his breath. "Okay, when we start talking, we ought to talk about unimportant things for a while, so if someone is listening, they don't think we're going to say anything that matters."

"You expecting someone to, mate?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Maybe." Harry shrugged, but he remained tight-lipped for the rest of the walk, refusing to say anything else on the subject.

There was a sense of unparalleled relief among the Quidditch team and reserves when Ron finally showed he had bowed to the pressure of his sister and friends, and officially called the practice off. He didn't admit his decision had been influenced, of course, and Harry secretly felt he might not have been convinced had he not wanted to hear what had happened that morning.

Dean and Seamus both looked like they knew the source of Ron's generosity, however, for they both grinned widely at Ginny, as Ron announced it. Dean's smile faded slightly as she didn't go to sit beside him, it looked like he had hoped she had forgiven him for their fight during lunch.

It wasn't a difficult task to find some topic to have a heated discussion about which didn't seem to be likely to stop for a while, and yet would be of no interest to a possible spy in Harry's eyes, for the next duels in Aravenne's tournament had been posted beside his classroom door. While Ginny and Ron seemed sure Harry would dispose of Terry Boot in his encounter, Hermione's quarter final had taken on special significance, for she had been drawn against Draco Malfoy.

"Nah, he'll want to end it spectacularly." Harry said definitively, to Ron's suggestion that he'd try all manner of tricks to scrape a win.

"And what makes you so sure?" Ginny asked sceptically.

"Because he'll want to try and make a statement to me." Harry replied calmly.

"That's the thing with you," Ron said in mocking chastisement, "it's always 'me', 'me', 'me'."

"He wants revenge for his slime-ball father being in prison," Harry protested, at first not realising Ron was joking, "you've heard how he keeps talking about 'having a score to settle'."

"Still," Ginny said dubiously, "even with his thing about Muggleborns, Malfoy knows Hermione is one of the best in the school. He's hardly going to think he can beat her any time he wants, just to send a message to you."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "You weren't there when Hermione and I duelled against him and the other Slytherins, Ginny. That time I lost control and smashed him against the wall. Before he tried to cast the Killing curse, he looked at me, as if to make sure I was watching. And then afterwards… Trust me, he'd like nothing better than to kill any of us, but me most of all."

The statement that a classmate might want to kill them might have sounded slightly comic, but there was such cold certainty in Harry's voice, that none of his friends laughed.

"He'll try to 'kill' Hermione with a really powerful curse." Harry said into the silence he had created a few seconds earlier. "And if he does, he'll make sure we know he wants to do it in real life too."

He fell silent again. Ron and Ginny were looking rather sombre, but Hermione was looking around her carefully, eyes narrowed.

"I don't think anyone's trying to watch us." Hermione said eventually, as the silence threatened to continue indefinitely. "Why don't you tell us what happened this morning Harry?"

"Yes," Ron said, trying to quip, "do. We need something to lighten the mood."

Harry's voice dropped a level in volume as he explained the meeting that morning.

"So that's why you were worried someone might hear us." Ron said in understanding. "In case a Gryffindor was the one that sent the note."

"Or if any of them were spies for Voldemort." Hermione added.

"A Gryffindor wouldn't spy for Y-" Ginny began, but Harry shrugged as he interrupted her.

"Pettigrew." He said quietly, causing Ginny to stop her sentence.

"Some Gryffindors brothers or sisters are supposedly Death Eaters." Hermione said softly. "Just like in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. It could be anyone."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep that night. He lay, tossing and turning, for what felt like hours. Having weaned himself off the Dreamless Sleep potion again, he didn't particularly want to start to take it once more, but his mind was full of thoughts of spies, warnings, and double-crosses. Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep, and, for want of anything better to do, practiced his wandless magic.

After what seemed to him to be a long time trying to improve the speed of his casting, and cancelling of the Lumos spell (which was made even harder by the fact he was whispering the incantation), he amused himself, firstly by trying to cast the spell wordlessly as well as wandlessly, and then studying the colours around him in the glow of his skin, and attempting to mimic them. Eventually his upper arm looked almost transparent against the quilt of the four poster bed.

The mental exercise, and use of magic, had both settled Harry down, and drained him of energy, and as he closed his eyes once more, his thoughts scattered as he reached the place between consciousness and sleep. He could see the Golden Snitches in his mind that he used to represent his magic, albeit in black and white. The shapes they created morphed from the dot which represented Lumos; to the controlled anger, and jagged cut that was the Falxiardor spell; or the swish and flick of the levitation spell he had learnt in his first ever Charms lesson.

Over and over the shapes merged from one spell movement to another, some he recognised instantly, and some that looked foreign. The only thing missing was the colour. He felt himself grin as he saw the shape which represented the Patronus charm, and grow furious when the shape of the Pulmelido curse showed itself. No feeling forced its way to the surface when a lightning bolt formed, but then, by that time, he had stopped making any associations; sleep was finally coming to claim him.

He woke early the next morning, feeling completely shattered, but a dream still fresh in his mind, and the words spoken by a mask-less Snape in Death Eater's robes repeating themselves in his head.

"_We have a spy in our midst, Master."_

Harry gave half a thought to seeing what the book Hermione had given him at Christmas had to say about anonymous tipsters, but decided against it, he felt too tired to do serious work – he wasn't Hermione; he preferred to pick and choose the times he worked. She just liked to work.

Noticing, as he pulled the covers off himself, that he had neglected to cancel the Lumos spells he had cast last night while trying to sleep, he groaned, and lay back down on his bed. That probably explained a lot of things – why he might be feeling quite as tired as he was, and why his early dreams had had the shapes of spells being cast wandlessly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

It was still raining that evening, when it came to the DA meeting, and Harry was half tempted to ask the Room of Requirement for a radiator. He, Ron, and Hermione had ventured out into the inclement weather earlier, ostensibly with the reason that they wanted to visit Hagrid, but in reality, they all wanted to see if they could worm details out of Hagrid about the strike the Order was making that night. It had not gone well.

"Yeh know I can' tell yeh things like tha'." Hagrid had said roughly. "An' tha's only if I knew, which I don'."

"Are Dad or my brothers going to be involved?" Ron asked anxiously.

Hagrid hesitated for a second. "Look Ron, I know yer jus' worried abou' your family 'n' all, but yeh can rest assured Dumbledore'll make sure they're alrigh'. 'N' how any of yeh even know there's something goin' on t'night is beyond me."

"So you know there is something happening tonight then." Harry said triumphantly. "Come on Hagrid, we're just worried, can't you tell us what you know?"

"No." Hagrid said stubbornly. "Yeh know I can' Harry. I tol' Dumbledore I wouldn' tell no-one nothin', not after yer firs' year, and I won't. Not even ter you Harry, nor you Ron, nor Hermione neither."

A muffled roar had then interrupted the conversation meaning the visit was over – the alternative would have been to go to talk to Grawp in the downpour, who Hagrid had assured them had been asking about them, especially 'Hermy'. All three of them had suddenly remembered homework, and things they had to do for the DA meeting.

Showers, and changes of clothes still hadn't rid their bodies of the chills the walk to Hagrid's hut and back had caused, which meant that all three of them gave the occasional shiver. As usual, people drifted into the room in twos and threes – apart from Luna, who came alone. Cho Chang walked into the room with Terry Boot, who Harry thought was going out with her, but Cho gave Harry the kind of smile she had given him not so long ago as she entered, giving Harry a rather uncomfortable, nervous feeling.

Perhaps rumours of a relationship between Hermione and Ron had spread somehow, and she no longer believed Hermione was his girlfriend, or perhaps she had never given up, but either way, Terry Boot gave him a long hard look. Ginny seemed to have seen the exchange, for she caught his eye, and gave him an infectious grin.

"Right," Harry began, slightly nervously as always, and, as always, causing the murmurs of conversation to disappear, "I thought we'd do something a little different today. There are some people here who haven't learnt how to do wordless magic yet, and I know some people can find it difficult to keep casting spells wordlessly without getting tired, so I thought I'd make a start on that today. I don't know how well this will work, but we'll give it a session, and then can decide whether to keep doing it or not. Okay?"

There was a general murmur of assent, and the Creevey brothers in particular looked rather excited, which Harry took to be a good sign, even if they generally looked excited at anything he suggested. Hermione had a slightly knowing smile on her face, as if she knew where this was going, and also was looking forward to it. Harry wasn't surprised by that, she was still struggling with the practice of wandless magic, and this might help.

"Okay." Harry said, exhaling, and concentrating upon what he needed most at this moment.

The room wavered slightly, and expanded. In the new space that had been created were a number of comfortable looking chairs, and – and here Harry had pandered to his earlier wish of warmth – a large, blazing fireplace.

"Right." He said with a grin. "Everyone take a seat, we need to get nice and comfortable."

Lavender let out a sigh of contentment as she sat down on the nearest settee, and, fiddling with something on its side, lay back in an almost horizontal position, a foot rest coming out of the bottom. The purebloods looked at her in astonishment, but many of them followed her example – although not many of them ended quite as flat on their backs.

As everyone took their seats, the part of the room they had just vacated started to shrink, until only the new space in which the chairs and fireplace had been created remained. Harry had been considering doing this for a while now, ever since he had started his private lessons with Aravenne in fact, and his duel with Dean had been the final persuasion needed. Quite apart from the people who didn't know how to duel wordlessly, there were some people who just wouldn't be able to duel without using all their energy up in one go.

"Okay," He began, "this is going to sound really strange, and maybe a bit silly to begin with, but just bear with me, okay?"

Despite the fact that he had worked through how he might begin to teach this in his head many times, it took a while for him to get into his stride, and he wasn't helped by Dean or Seamus as he tried to get them to relax.

"You are getting sleepy – _sleepy_…" Dean intoned, causing the people with Muggle relations to laugh.

"Look," Harry said patiently, "Dean, I know this seems silly, but trust me, and try to relax, it really helps your concentration."

"You must find your inner self, my son," Seamus said, in a voice that he obviously considered to be that of an Asian martial arts guru, "for without inner peace, you are as brittle as a newborn chick."

"Do you think that's funny?" Cho asked angrily.

"Calm down!" Seamus said in mock surrender. "It was only a joke!"

"How would you feel if someone said all Irish people spent each evening going to the pub, and morning resting their hangovers in church, Seamus?" Harry asked quietly.

He had always had a sore spot when people were made fun of about something they could do nothing about. Not that he thought it wasn't a problem if it was something they _could_ do something about, but he had endured enough for simply being who he was, and no matter what his feelings were towards Cho, he had to say something.

"Sounds like a grand life to me." Seamus said airily. "Well, apart from the church part." He grinned. "But I take your point Harry."

"Good." Harry rolled his eyes. "Now, will you two please just give this a chance?"

"You know, Harry," Luna began in a dreamy voice, "this sounds a little like the mind conditioning techniques the Ministry's Kafflewicks are supposed to use."

Harry blinked. "Um…"

"They are working at ways to control the populace without using the Imperious Curse." Luna explained, as if Harry's reaction was completely natural to her.

"Ah." Harry said, caught off guard, as so often happened, by Luna's ever ready supply of 'knowledge'. "Well, I can promise you right now I'm not trying to, er, take over your minds or anything."

"No, I didn't think you would." Luna replied serenely.

The session went so-so, in Harry's opinion. He knew that it would be days before the aids to concentration he tried to teach would make a true difference, and that some of the DA would consider it useless without immediate action. He was sure that certain people, like the Creeveys, or his closer friends, like Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and even Luna and Neville would probably give his suggestions a concerted effort. Harry wondered how hard Luna would find it to control her rather dotty mind, for she certainly seemed to think about things in a completely different way to anyone else.

However, he had the impression that certain other people would discard his advice quite quickly. Dean and Seamus' attitude towards the idea hadn't changed much, even if they had cut out the jokes, and, to his surprise, the Ravenclaws in particular looked a little dubious. Harry had imagined it might have been the kind of thing they would have taken to. The one exception to that was Cho, who had looked like she was absorbing every word he said.

They had spent the last half an hour casting spells without words, and Harry judged that Ginny in particular was making better efforts than any of the fifth years had done when it was introduced to them. He couldn't help himself when the session had finished, but he recreated the warm fire they had removed while casting spells, and lounged in a chair beside it, letting the others depart in the small groups they had arrived in. Ron and Hermione were first, having to immediately patrol the castle on account of their Prefect duties. Although, how much patrolling went on Harry didn't know, and judging by how they were keeping everything under wraps, he was never likely to find out.

"Need to warm up?" A slightly nervous voice came from the middle of the room.

Harry almost jumped up, he hadn't realised how much he was sticking his nose in his friends' business. So much so, that he hadn't paid attention to the room around him. He was sure Moody would have had something to say about that! Cho was standing, alone in the room, a few yards away from him, blushing slightly, and looking as pretty as ever. She looked at him in a manner that in the last few years had made Harry's stomach do somersaults. His stomach was doing things now, but the feelings he got, while still being of nerves, were a different kind completely. The indirect betrayal last year had removed his infatuation with the pretty Asian girl completely.

Harry gave a shrugging motion, and shook his head. "I was just outside earlier."

Cho gave a small laugh, and moved half a step closer. "Yeah, I hope it isn't like this when we play you in Quidditch."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say, he was feeling uncomfortable, and was painfully aware that his face might be beginning to colour.

She took another step forward.

"You're not going out with Hermione Granger, are you really?" She asked.

Not having the knowledge of what Hermione might think he should say in this situation, Harry went with the truth. "No. I never have been." He added. "You're going out with Terry Boot, aren't you?"

"Yeah, kind of." She said, looking away slightly.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Harry just wanted to get out of there – a far call from a year ago.

"I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me earlier." Cho said, in a rush, and taking another couple of steps.

She was close now. Too close.

"I, ah, don't like seeing people made fun of because of who they are. I'd have done it for anyone." Harry felt his leg hit the chair he had just been sitting in. He couldn't back away.

"But that you'd stick up for me after what happened with Marietta. Thank you." She moved again.

She looked at him intensely, face now barely a foot away from Harry's. As if suddenly finding courage, she moved her face forward. At the last moment, Harry turned his head, taking the kiss on his cheek. Her perfume threatened to overwhelm his senses, and he found himself leaning on the armchair.

She moved backwards a couple of spaces, allowing Harry to regain his own personal space. Terrible as he might be emotionally, he thought he could see disappointment, and the pain of rejection in Cho's eyes. Again, he found he couldn't say anything, he just didn't have a clue what he should do.

"Last year, before… We had something, didn't we?" Cho said in almost a pleading whisper. "I really like you Harry, and I know you liked me. Why can't we try again?"

"You didn't want me, Cho." Harry said, suddenly finding his voice, without knowing whether he was doing the right thing or not. "You wanted Cedric. No," he said, as Cho started to say something, "I know you didn't. Even when we went out in Hogsmeade together, you kept talking about him." He shook his head and hated the sound of emotion in his voice as he continued. "He's dead Cho, I saw him die. There isn't going to be another Cedric, not me, not Terry Boot, not anyone. If you find someone you don't compare to him, that's the one you should… talk to. Not me."

Cho's eyes brimmed, and she turned, and left the room without a word, but not without a sound. Harry slumped back into his chair, feeling a mixture of relief, and guilt, along with an almost panicky feeling in his stomach. He felt a bit of self-irritation. _He hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault she was upset_. He pulled a lever on the chair, as Lavender had done, and tried to relax. He lost track of the time he sat there, it could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, but he wasn't feeling any calmer for it.

"Are you okay, Harry?" A concerned voice asked from across the room. Ginny was standing at the doorway.

"What?" Harry asked, pulled from his reverie. "Oh, yeah, I'm okay. Why?"

"Well, Cho looked like she was trying to catch you alone, and when you didn't show up in the Gryffindor Tower…" She shrugged. "I thought you might want some help, that's all."

"Oh." Harry said. He couldn't think of anything intelligent to answer that with. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He added.

"You sure? You look sort of… down."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." He pulled himself to his feet, and gave a lop-sided grin. "Thanks."

"It didn't go that well, did it?" Harry asked, as they exited the room.

"_I_ thought it went well." Ginny told him. "Just imagine what the teachers will think next year when I do wordless magic straight away." She smiled. "They'll think I'm a natural… what was it?"

"Magus." Harry said, smiling slightly himself. He shook his head. "I got the feeling some of the others didn't like it much though."

"Their loss. If they don't want to give it a go, it's their problem. You can't please absolutely everyone all of the time, Harry." She said sternly. "And so what if some of them don't think it was a good meeting? You're allowed to have bad days too you know."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Even Remus was loath to talk too much about how the planned attack that night went. Harry hadn't expected Snape to tell him anything, of course, but he had hoped Professor McGonagall might have given him a positive or negative answer to his guarded questions. He should have realised it was a forlorn hope, and not have been surprised by her narrowed gaze, but he was. Hagrid, of course, would have to be subtly manipulated into telling them what he knew, and Dumbledore had disappeared from the grounds of the school again.

"Look," Harry said in near exasperation into the mirror, "I know what you were doing last night, okay? And I know that you had to change your plans – I even know _why_ you had to change them – so the least you can do is tell me what happened."

"Harry." Remus said gently, and paused. "There are some things that it is better not to talk about, especially if there may be untrustworthy people around." His reflection held up his hand to prevent him from speaking. "There were no fatalities in the Order." He paused again.

"But?" Harry voiced the unsaid word.

Remus swallowed and looked a bit uncomfortable. "I don't want you or your friends to get worried Harry."

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Swear to me that you will not mention this anywhere there is even a faint chance of being overheard." Remus said seriously.

Harry nodded. "I swear."

"Arthur and Bill were both injured. Not too badly!" He added hastily. "But neither are in a fit state at the moment to do much." He gave a wry smile. "And the last thing we, or they, want, is for people to find out anything about the Order. Especially after Wednesday morning." He added significantly.

Harry nodded. "You mean, because Voldemort found out about-"

"Yes." Remus replied. "So Harry, whatever you tell Ron or Ginny, do not let them get too alarmed. It would be best for Albus to tell them, but he is off investigating the diary you found. But if Ron or Ginny were to say anything, or show they know anything, you could be inviting even more trouble upon yourselves, and us all."

Harry nodded, and followed the shift in conversation, in an effort to gain more intelligence. "Okay. So has Professor Dumbledore finished translating it yet?"

Remus grinned. "Hopefully he will have when he gets back, that's one of the reasons he left. It could require diplomacy to access some helpful documents, but with any luck we have enough friends in other countries. If push comes to shove, we might be able to contact some people Percy knows from his time in International Cooperation."

"I thought we were keeping Percy away from the Order." Harry said immediately.

"We are." Remus replied. "Or at least we're trying to. We could hardly avoid him finding out his father and brother were injured."

"And he's going to keep quiet about it?" Harry asked nervously.

"Oh, yes." Remus said, with a hint of humour. "He may not want into the Order, and be against his family being in it, but he wants to keep them safe."

"What happened?" Harry asked, realising that something obviously had.

Remus gave a half-grin. "He demanded to go along next time so he could protect his family. Bill wasn't very impressed with the idea of his younger brother going along to keep him or his father safe, I can tell you." He paused, before continuing softly. "They're becoming a family again, Harry."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry crept forward. He was sure he had seen Terry Boot enter the barn. He held himself tightly against the wall beside the large arching door that was large enough to admit two wide Muggle vehicles side by side. Bright light was streaming out from the electric bulb, hanging down from the ceiling inside, to the black night outside. He had wounded Terry, he knew, and the Ravenclaw had limped away from their encounter in the trees outside, but the angle had been all wrong to take advantage of the few moments Terry had been framed in the yellow light.

He popped his head around the door frame, and withdrew it immediately. He hadn't seen anyone in the quick glance he had taken, but after his eyes had become used to the darkness, it was difficult to adjust to the sudden light. Perhaps more importantly a spell hadn't been fired his way. The small, but powerful bulb that was hanging in the air by a thin flex was too far away to be hit easily by a curse, and he would be at the greater disadvantage as Terry might have found a place to hide.

Harry took another quick look. The barn was filled with bales of hay, and bags and bags of grain, which would provide ample spots to hide. A door led to a room in the back, but otherwise the only mode of escape was the door Harry was standing by, and the boarded shut windows high up the walls.

_Be aggressive._ He reminded himself.

He brought his wand around the corner on his third peek, and framed the spell in his head. A blast of red light shot from his wand, and hit a bale of hay halfway inside the barn. It sparked into life, and began to flame before Harry had even returned out of sight. It had been ironic that Terry had been one of the ones who didn't seem that impressed with Harry's Occlumency-cum-Magi techniques, for it had been Harry's quiet that had given him the upper hand in the fight so far. He had cast spells wordlessly, and moved before Terry could find where he was attacking from, and it was only some of the Ravenclaw's charms that had prolonged the fight as long as he had.

A sputtering sound came from the other side of the brick wall, as though a pipe was trying to find water from an empty cistern. A few seconds later, a sprinkler system came into effect, and the tinkling of water, and hisses of steam, sounded from different areas of the building. Smoke began to billow out of the open doorway beside him, and Harry looked inside again. His fire seemed to have gathered strength quickly, feeding upon the dry hay, but it was fighting to stay lit against the never ceasing drops of water coming from the ceiling.

The light of a spell from the left showed Terry Boot's silhouette for a moment, as he tried to help put the fire out. Harry aimed his wand, and cast an explosive hex. There was a loud crash, as Terry was flung backwards, but the arena didn't fade. With a sound between a bang, and a squelch, the light went out, and everything was dark. Harry crouched down, trying to avoid the smoke that was still streaming outside, and squinting around in the dim light left by his fire.

Everything seemed to be working against him: his inability to finish Terry off before he got to the barn; the fact Aravenne had included a sprinkler system; the loss of light just as it looked like it was all over. Harry held his tongue, and bit back the curse on his lips – the advantage of cover was the Ravenclaw's as well. He slipped inside, staying close to the wall in his crouch, and trying to find something to hide behind before his opponent could regain his wits enough to launch a counterattack.

He could have covered his head with a Bubblehead charm in order to avoid the smoke which was tickling his throat, and enticing a cough, but it would hamper his movement, and make him more of a target. As he knelt down behind a metal crate of some sort, a wind started to build up, sucking the smoke over Harry's head, and out through the door. He slid down, with his back to the crate, forced to wait as the fumes caused his eyes to water, and tested his self-control as he tried not to cough. The dim light disappeared completely, leaving pitch black.

He slid to his left, squinting in the darkness, and finding the next best object to hide behind. He kicked something, which moved softly a foot or so away. He picked it up, unable to see anything but the shape in the darkness, but feeling hard, jagged edges which suggested it was a piece of concrete. He tossed it away, in front of him, and to his right. A thump sounded as it landed. Harry moved swiftly behind an intact bale of hay. The smell of wet hay, the acrid smell of burning, and the scent of spoiled farm produce all filled the air, somehow more powerful for the darkness he found himself in.

The sound of a door clicking echoed slightly in front of him, causing Harry to speed up, as he made his way to the back of the barn. There was a definite sound of movement through the flimsy wall as he approached, so Harry slowed slightly, and covered the door. Terry Boot was obviously going to try and surprise him as he went through there. Unfortunately, the fact that it was obvious didn't make it any easier for Harry to stop it.

He opened the door with a flick of his Abramite, and waited. Like the main barn, the back room was completely dark, and he could see no shapes through the doorway. Harry circled slightly, but wherever Terry Boot was, he was well hidden from line of sight. Harry paused to think. The problem was getting into the room without Terry knowing. With a wry face, Harry wished he was allowed to use wandless magic in the duel. If he were to make his body black with the Lumos charm, he could probably sneak in without difficulty.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how to do that with a wand.

With a sigh, Harry realised that waiting wasn't going to accomplish anything. He had been dominating the duel from start to finish, and he was the one who was going to have to make the move to end it. He levelled his wand at the far right of the wall dividing the two rooms from each other, and muttered the spell quietly.

"Rejicia Maxima."

A large hole appeared as the curse hit the wall, and the explosion sounded. Bits of wall flew everywhere, but Harry didn't notice. As the curse left his wand he had moved forward, muttering a second spell as he approached the door.

The Bullatueor shield formed just as a bright flash of light illuminated everything in the room, growing to a crescendo of white which blocked everything else from sight. Harry staggered sideways, not from any physical ill, but from the complete loss of vision. He reached out, grabbing the left door frame, and stumbling to the ground and his knees. There were faint sounds of laboured movement from the other room, and Harry pointed his Abramite somewhere to the right of his left hand, and shouted.

"Colloportus!"

The door closed with a slam. Harry just withdrew his left hand in time, and fell backwards. Still sightless, he resumed a kneeling position with a struggle, for he had no balance. He pointed the wand at his face, and muttered a hasty healing spell. Vague shapes began to form, and he turned to where he thought the door was. He sensed rather than saw the door open, and pointed his wand in the general direction.

"Stupefy!"

The arena faded.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Effringo." Hermione replied to Malfoy's curse softly – too softly for Harry or the other watchers to hear.

Malfoy was getting irritated, Harry could tell. Hermione had spent the majority of her time defending in the duel, but it was a planned defence, one with a charm that deflected the majority of curses away, like Ron had found, and steady shields, designed to use as little concentration and effort as possible. Harry had realised her strategy immediately: like Harry had suggested, she had realised Malfoy would like to make a statement, and she knew that the longer he failed to affect her defences, the more tired he would get, and thus more likely he was to make mistakes.

The strategy would have been doomed to failure had it not been for her precise wandwork, for each of her spells was near effortlessly performed to perfection. And, obviously, the better the spell was cast, the more potent it was, and the less energy it required. She looked confident, and calm after minutes spent doing little but defend, and dissuading Malfoy from approaching the charm that was protecting her.

Malfoy sent another spell towards her, which she ignored this time, and cast a spell of her own, confident that her shield would protect her. Malfoy jumped aside, while his spell fizzled harmlessly out a few feet in front of Hermione.

The Slytherin snarled, and took a few steps forward, but was met by a jet of light from Hermione's wand, and retreated again, ducking. He was obviously saying something, but, again, the crowd couldn't hear what it was. He ducked behind a crate, back turned away, and a calculating expression on his face. He looked like he was looking straight at the rest of the class, but, of course, all he could see was the wall of the arena in front of him.

A spell hit the crate hiding him, but only partially destroyed it, leaving Malfoy with some cover. He deflected Hermione's next curse with a shield of his own, and then sent another spell towards her. Hermione simply sidestepped. A box flew towards her, piercing the charm as Ron's chair had done, but she was ready with a Reductor charm. She seemed to have all the answers, and, judging by the furious look of Malfoy's demeanour, he knew it.

He crouched down again, and raised his wand, out of sight of Hermione, who, Harry realised, was either reinforcing her charm, or creating another. Out of the tip of the Slytherin's wand shot a large snake, easily the length of a man, tongue forked, and coiled as if to strike.

Harry hissed a swear word under his breath. Literally. Ron gave him a nervous look, cut his eyes around, and then muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Do you think that snake can hear you from out here? Maybe you can set it on that git?"

Harry looked around too, and noticed some of the other students, especially the Slytherins, were watching him to see if he was going to try to do what Ron had suggested.

He shook his head. "There's no point. Parseltongue is just normal sound, and you can't hear anything from outside of the arenas when you're fighting. Plus everyone here would know what I did."

He had no time to say anything more, for Malfoy was launching another attack, and the snake had slithered out of view. He wanted to shout out, and warn Hermione, but could do nothing but sit and watch. It was over quickly, the snake struck once, twice, and the gong rang. Malfoy had joined Harry, Blaise Zabini, and Susan Bones in qualifying from the quarterfinals. Harry was to face Zabini for a place in the final.

* * *

_A/N: __It amused me the other day, for I reread some of JKR's website, and the rumours section, and I noticed the following 'article':_

**Aunt Petunia will start exhibiting magical tendencies.**

No, she won't. Aunt Petunia has never perfomed magic, nor will she ever be able to do so.

_Well - I thought it was a good idea when I started this story! I didn't realise enough other people had thought of it for her to rebut it though. Never mind! :)_


	25. Explosive Situations

**Chapter 25: Explosive Situations**

"You are distracted, Harry." Professor Dumbledore said quietly, as he and Harry faced each other across the floor of his study.

Harry flushed slightly at the, perfectly true, implication that his Occlumency was poor that night. Dumbledore nodded slightly, as if to confirm his own statement.

"I can't concentrate on anything." Harry said suddenly, as the silence continued. "If I'm thinking about Occlumency or something, then something pops into my head about Voldemort, or what he's after, or spies, or Bill and Mr Weasley, or, well," he went a little redder, "the Quidditch match coming up, or the Defence Against the Dark Arts duels."

"You wish to do something more proactive than preparation or recreation." Dumbledore smiled slightly, and took a couple of steps to his side, picking up a small china jar. "Have a wine gum." He said, taking off the top and offering it to Harry.

Harry popped one into his mouth, and was unable to completely contain the expression on his face as a sudden sour yet sweet taste filled his mouth. Dumbledore smiled.

"Rather good, are they not?" He picked one out for himself – a yellow coloured one. "I discovered them when I was last in Muggle London."

Harry mulled over the contrasting flavours as he slipped back into his chair. It was rather nice, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Eventually he decided that it must be all the additives Aunt Petunia was continuously worried about – unless Dudley had them, and then it didn't matter for some reason. His Aunt would conveniently forget about the diet in order to keep Dudley happy.

"We all have aspects of our lives which other people may feel, or we believe they feel, to be unnecessary." The headmaster continued, retaking his own seat. "But rather than assuming our detractors to be correct, sometimes we must ask ourselves if we would be the same people without them. Without our likes and dislikes, hobbies and hobby-horses, without our –" he smiled fondly at the jar still in his hand, "quirks, we would merely be automatons. There is nothing wrong with having doubts, or nerves – nor with having pursuits outside of duty."

"But I need to be able to ignore these other things in order to do Occlumency, don't I?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"Not ignore them, Harry," Dumbledore said swiftly, "never ignore them. That causes more harm than good – your mind has yet another task upon which to embark. Instead you must learn to harmonise the thoughts in your mind so that they complement each other rather than clash. Teaching the mind to segment your thoughts in a way in which they are present without intruding, is, alas, something which comes more easily with age, and practice. It is one of the many reasons why Occlumency practitioners tend to be well past their coming of age before becoming proficient. You are one of the rare exceptions." He reassured Harry in a serious tone.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "The doors to my memories still have huge signs written in English on them. You can get to any memory you want, and that's even without using your full strength."

"True," Dumbledore acknowledged with a slight smile, "but there is only one man I am aware of who has similar or greater skill than I in Legilimency." He continued speaking, as Harry opened his mouth to remind him that it was that man he had to face. "And do not forget that in our first contest, you forced me out of your mind."

"Am I ready to face him?" Harry said abruptly, and then added before Dumbledore could answer. "Will I ever be?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Readiness is an abstract concept. Can you ever be prepared for every single eventuality? Can you afford a chance to slip you by, when it may never come again? You are stronger than your last confrontation, you are more experienced, but are you ready? Until you next meet, we can never know for sure."

"I want to go with you when you next attack Voldemort's bases." Harry said after a deep breath. "Duelling in lessons is really useful, but it's completely different than in real life, and if – when – I duel Voldemort, I need more experience."

"You must remain here during such raids I am afraid, Harry." Dumbledore said firmly.

"I won't get in the way." Harry said hurriedly. "But I feel like I'm getting by, well, just by luck at the moment. I need to-"

"I have little or no control over the Ministry, Harry, and even less over our esteemed press. Your presence in such a situation would be an unnecessary risk, although not due in any way to a lack of ability." Dumbledore paused. "The presence of you or any of your friends would be far better served on a less public assignment."

He walked to the back of the room, and pulled a black book out of what looked to Harry like thin air. Harry stayed silent, and looked at the book and then Dumbledore, waiting to be told what, exactly, it was.

"There are not many in the Order who are aware of either our, or Voldemort's, search for the Scrivenings of Slytherin." Dumbledore qualified his earlier statement. "That, and your ability to converse with Slytherin's two familiars, means that it seems prudent to include you in our hunt."

"Out of Hogwarts as well?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Although you shall have to promise to do as I say."

Harry nodded quickly.

"This is a copy of the diary you discovered at Grimmauld Place, Harry, translated to the best of my ability. We can talk about this in more detail after the rest of our lesson. You are, after all, here for your Occlumency. Now, let us cease our combat for the moment, and instead…"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"How are they?" Ron and Ginny demanded as one in a fierce whisper, as Harry approached his three friends in Gryffindor Tower.

"Fine, apparently." Harry said quietly. "Dumbledore says that the damage is superficial, and it's more a matter of looking normal, than anything else."

Ginny looked relieved.

"Looking normal?" Ron demanded. "What? Have they tentacles growing out of their heads or something?"

"All I know is that they're fine." Harry shrugged. "And it's what Remus said too, so don't worry."

"What's that you're carrying?" Hermione broke in, content that Ron's brother and father were as well as they were told.

Harry grinned; he should have known Hermione would be the first to enquire about the book in his hand. "I thought I'd pick up some reading material for you." He glanced around. "It's a diary."

"Oh." Hermione mouthed, immediately taking the hint and reaching for her wand to cast the secrecy charm.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry looked up from his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, yawned, and stretched. Ron looked up as well, and then glanced around the Room of Requirement, where they had decided to work that night. Hermione was slightly hunched in her armchair, reading the translated diary in deep concentration. Ron shook his head.

"I don't know how she gets it all done either." Ron said, as if Harry had just said something.

"At least you got a chance to do some work yesterday." Harry replied. "I'm going to be here all night at this rate."

"Herbology wasn't too bad." Ron said in a commiserating tone. "And Charms is a piece of cake compared to what we were doing earlier this year. You can have a look at mine if you want."

They were interrupted by an impatient sigh from Hermione, who looked over her book at them waspishly. "And how is that going to do him any good? It's the working it out on your own that helps make it stick in your mind."

"Well, for starters, it would mean he could get a bit of work done on helping Dumbledore with finding things out about those Scrivenings." Ron retorted. "What does it say anyway?"

Harry hesitated momentarily, his quill poised over his ink, and then laid it down on the table, empty.

"I thought you two had lots of work to do?" Hermione said, with an amused expression on her face.

"Ah, it's not all that much, really." Ron said in a falsely confident voice.

"Well, I did warn you I'd need your help to get through all the work if I took an extra subject." Harry said, stretching again, and tilting his chair backward slightly.

"Oh, so you only have Herbology left?" Hermione challenged him with an amused expression.

"And all the work I would have got done in the free periods I'd have had instead." Harry said smartly.

Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes, rather than arguing.

"So?" Ron prompted.

"I haven't read that much really." Hermione acknowledged. "The diary starts off when Moreau was about ten, and," she looked amused, "living in a monastery."

"Sirius' great- great- great- whatever- Grandfather was a monk?" Harry asked in disbelief, causing Ron to laugh at the expression on his face.

"An orphaned novice." Hermione corrected. "And of course, that is assuming this is actually Sirius' ancestor. Anyway, as best I can make out, a strange man watched him work in the herb garden without approaching for weeks, before Moreau was summoned by the Abbot. He was left with what he thought was a rather sacrilegious piece of information: that magic exists, but not in the form that the churches disapprove of; and the instruction to start a new diary from that evening forth."

"Wait." Ron interrupted. "Moreau, Slytherin's student was a Muggleborn?"

Hermione flicked back a few pages, while shaking her head. "No, I don't think so. His parents died, I'm not sure how, but they were a witch and wizard I think. Hang on." She turned the page back again, and then read aloud:

"_Father Abbot introduced a man to me tonight. He seemed a little familiar when I first saw him, but I had never seen him before. Father Abbot told me that he was the man who brought me here when my parents died. The Father and this Godric Gryffindor seemed to be good friends, but I was sure I heard one of the Brothers call him a sorcerer. I don't know what to think, but I trust the Abbot, and through him my Lord God to show me my way."_

"And it goes on." Hermione said, and skimmed over a page or too.

"_The man called Gryffindor returned today, as did Slytherin, who seems to be a friend of his, although the Abbot only knows him as a herbalist from many villages away."_

"Um..." Harry interrupted this time. "Slytherin? When did they meet?"

"Oh, Slytherin was the man who watched him work, didn't I mention that?"

"No." Ron said. "You didn't."

"Well, you're the ones interrupting me" Hermione replied, a little nettled.

"Okay, so what else?" Ron pressed

Hermione shook her head. "I haven't read that much more. Gryffindor and Slytherin introduced him to magic, and along with the Abbot, persuaded him to go to the school they were founding." Her forehead creased slightly. "I don't _think_ that the Abbot was a wizard, but he obviously knew about magic."

"Anything interesting yet?" Ron asked.

"This _is_ interesting." Hermione reprimanded him. "Slytherin took him on as a student, and took him to Hogwarts, where he met the other students. He says that he was the youngest, and some of them looked really old. One of the women under Slytherin's care was nearly as old as the Founders apparently, and knew a lot about magic already. That was Ara – the other two that Slytherin's familiars mentioned are there too Harry, Antrim and Talen – and he mentions a couple of Gryffindors too; but that is as much as I've read. Oh, and he was one of only a few who could read and write. He seems quite proud of that."

"So nothing useful yet." Ron summed up.

Hermione shook her head and narrowed her eyes at Ron's lack of interest in history. "But what I don't really understand, Harry, is why Dumbledore gave this to you in the first place. What are we going to find that he won't?"

"I dunno." Harry said, looking reluctantly at his quill, aware that he would have to start again soon. "He has a lot of other things to do too, maybe he just wants other people to look at it, in case they spot something he doesn't. Or maybe he just wants to let us feel we're doing something useful." He shrugged.

"When exactly did you become so cynical, again?" Ron asked him, making a face.

"Last year." Harry replied shortly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

There was a muttering in the Great Hall when Harry came down to breakfast Tuesday morning, completely unrelated to him for a change. Hermione stopped suggesting spells he might want to use in his duel with Blaise Zabini, and Ron stopped telling her (and Harry) that there was nothing to worry about. The only table that wasn't whispering in worried tones were the Slytherins; although a few did seem concerned, they were a minority – some looked rather cruelly pleased. His opponent was chewing thoughtfully, and remained aloof from his housemates.

"This can't be good." Ron muttered, as they took in the sight.

They walked towards the closest empty Gryffindor seats, and an owl, which had been perched grumpily further down the table, took a few steps towards them, and then took to the air, practically buffeting Hermione with the rolled up Daily Prophet attached to its leg. Harry and Ron sat down; Hermione stayed standing as she straightened the paper.

"Voldemort attacked a Mugg-" Hermione stopped speaking, her face draining of colour. "God. He blew up a school."

"What?" Harry and Ron asked as one.

Harry stood up and leant over the table in an attempt to grab the paper. Hermione adroitly avoided him, while still reading anxiously.

"Over a hundred dead or badly injured." She muttered, before, most atypically, she swore.

Ron stared at her.

"Damn the Ministry." She said, sounding near tears.

"What have they done?" Harry asked bracingly, as Ron awkwardly squeezed Hermione's shoulder, trying to offer comfort.

"Well it's only _Muggles_ who died isn't it? And there was a huge explosion, wasn't there? So what do the Ministry make sure the Muggles think?"

"What?"

"Well that it was Muggles who attacked them of course. That it was a terrorist attack… so everyone is going to be calling for retribution. Don't you see? Everyone inside Muggle Britain will be a suspect, and everyone outside will be blamed. Don't you understand what this could do?"

"Well what else are they meant to do?" Harry asked in resignation. "Tell them that a bunch of wizards blew it up?"

Hermione, looking shaky, didn't reply. Harry knew what she was thinking – it could have been her parents, her cousins, her Muggle friends.

"But still, I mean, pretty much anything's better than starting a war between the Muggles, right?" Ron said to Harry. "Better for us, as well as them; they can blow up things too, can't they?"

"I doubt most of the Ministry realise that." Hermione said bitterly. "Most wizards seem to think that Muggles are no better than animals."

Ron shrugged. "Well I've had you two, haven't I? From what Harry says, Muggles are evil, Slytherin-like gits, from what you say, they're all as brainy as you and not all like the Dursleys, and from what Dad says they're –" he grimaced. "– well, let's not go there."

Hermione gave a small smile, and looked at Ron with what Harry thought was fondness.

"Where was the attack?" He asked Hermione, a wry smile on his face too.

Hermione looked back at the paper, and paused.

"Surrey."

Harry's smile froze on his face.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry's classes that morning were a disaster. A voice inside him was trying to tell him that it was not necessarily Smeltings that was attacked, or if it was, that Dudley did not have to be one of the victims. Another voice was reminding him of everything the Dursleys – and his cousin in particular – had done to him, but he still couldn't help but worry about the podgy bully. He was family.

And that was why Harry was so sure that it had been Smeltings that had been obliterated, for what other reason could there be for Voldemort to attack a Muggle school in Surrey? Then, of course, there was also the fact that Dumbledore had been nowhere to be seen at breakfast. It couldn't just be coincidence.

"No Harry, your wand motion is completely the wrong shape." Hermione hissed in frustration.

Harry looked up in a distinct lack of comprehension. Professor McGonagall was looking intently at him through her square shaped glasses at the front of the classroom, and Hermione was trying to keep her head down, and give him directions at the same time. The bust of a human head in front of him was as humanlike as ever.

Ron bent over Hermione, with the pretext of reaching for one of Harry's books. "Look mate," he whispered, "if the Dursleys were hurt, then you'd know, wouldn't you? I mean, Dumbledore would make sure you knew V-V- You-Know-Who could get through the protective charms, right?"

Harry didn't bother to tell Ron that it was guilt, and concern about the Dursleys safety rather than his own that was concerning him. Ron had seen some of the things the Dursleys had done to him, and his views about people and their just desserts had been less affected by blood-ties ever since Percy's estrangement.

"Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall said clearly as the period came to an end, causing the entire class to look at him and the unchanged head in front of him. There seemed to be little surprise when she continued. "Please wait behind after class."

Ron and Hermione glanced towards him anxiously. He gave them a slight shrug.

"Yes Ma'am." He nodded.

Hermione and Ron were the last two to approach the door, probably because they seemed as intent on being worried about him, as putting their books in their bags. Professor McGonagall glanced at them as Harry approached.

"Your friends may remain if you wish, Mr Potter." She said quietly. "This has nothing to do with academic performance, and you may be glad of their presence."

Harry's stomach lurched. Now he was certain something had happened to the Dursleys.

"I have little doubt that most of what I say shall be repeated, regardless, so from my point of view I may as well talk to all of you. It is up to you whether you wish some form of moral support."

Harry nodded; Ron closed the door.

"That Muggle attack," Harry began, "the school was a place called Smeltings, wasn't it?"

"It was." Professor McGonagall replied, speaking gently once more. "A large number of Death Eaters Portkeyed nearby." She shook her head. "There were far more than our defences could cope with, and by the time help had arrived, it was over."

"So Dudley-" Harry began.

"Half of the school was destroyed," The professor continued, "and most of the Muggles inside that area were killed. But your cousin, and the rest of the school, suffered a number of wounds, but in general survived. Dudley Dursley is in St Mungo's at this moment, and is being well taken care of, I can assure you."

"How ill is he?" Hermione asked from the doorway.

"He is badly injured." Professor McGonagall said, and then with a reassuring smile added. "But not as badly injured as some of my Gryffindor sixth years routinely seem to be. Mr Potter's cousin will be fine."

"And my Aunt and Uncle?"

"They are safe, and are being watched even more closely by Order members. Albus is even now examining the charms, do not worry Mr Potter."

Harry looked at her doubtfully.

"Your cousin will be well again soon." She promised.

"Will he be Obliviated?" Ron asked, casting a worried look at Harry.

"It is standard procedure if Muggles are involved in anything of this kind." McGonagall said. "Even if they are aware of our world to some degree."

"So they won't blame Harry?" Ron pressed.

McGonagall looked a little puzzled, and Harry, trying to find some humour from the situation, gave a wry smile.

"Doesn't matter Ron – they'll probably blame me anyway."

McGonagall frowned. "If you should like to visit your cousin, Mr Potter, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Ah, that's probably not a good idea. I'll, um, think about it." He added hastily.

"I see." She said, eyes narrowing even more. "In the circumstances, it is quite understandable if you do not feel up to your lessons today, you may spend the day in the hospital wing, or the library if you wish."

"I'll be fine." Harry said hastily, before adding. "Well, I'll see about Potions."

The lines around McGonagall's mouth twitched slightly. "I'm sure Severus will understand completely."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Are you alright Harry?" Hermione asked gently as they left the room.

"Fantastic, why wouldn't I be?" Harry snapped, and then winced. "Sorry." He muttered.

"Because you have this annoying tendency to blame yourself for things you have no control over." Hermione said calmly. "And it's quite alright."

"Look, Harry, to be blunt-" Ron began.

"When are you ever not?" Hermione muttered under her breath – Ron ignored her.

"It's not the Dursleys you should be worrying about, it's yourself for a change. What have they ever done for you to worry about them for? I mean, the amount of times they've not given a c-"

"Ron." Hermione said in quiet reproach.

Normally Ron might have reminded her of her own loss of composure earlier, but not now. He was in one of his rare 'serious' frames of mind.

"The bottom line is that they could have done a lot more for you than they have in the past Harry." He said frankly. "You don't owe them s- anything, even concern."

"It's my fault they're in more danger than other Muggles." Harry reminded him. "If they weren't related to me –"

"Yes, yes," Ron said, glaring at him, "and it's your fault we're in more danger, and that my family is in more danger, and that Hermione's is, that the Gryffindors, even the whole of Hogwarts – hell, it's probably even your fault that the whole world is in danger.

"Well here's a newsflash Harry – if it wasn't for you, You-Know-Who would probably have killed us all before we even got to Hogwarts. And if it wasn't for him there wouldn't have been any trouble in the first place."

"They're the only family I've got Ron." Harry said angrily, looking to Hermione for help.

"No they're not!" Ron replied fiercely, ears going red. He quietened as Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "You always said the Dursleys didn't want you, yeah? Well _we_ do. We want _you_ as _our_ family."

"They're Muggles Ron. They can't protect themselves, and they're targets."

"Who cares if they're Muggles?" Ron asked, making a valiant effort to remain calm. "They're evil, sadistic and cruel – do you know how much we worried after we saw-"

"Ron." Hermione interrupted quietly. "Now isn't the time. Harry, Professor McGonagall wouldn't have said they were safe if they weren't. The best thing you can do now, is concentrate on your duel against Zabini."

"Who cares about the duelling?" Harry dismissed.

"You do." Hermione told him. "Or you will if the Slytherins go around telling everyone that Zabini's a better duellist than you."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Hey Potter!" Draco Malfoy yelled out loudly. "Heard you were so scared to face Blaise today, that you tried to cancel the duel. What was your excuse? A few Muggles went and got themselves killed? You're pathetic."

Ron and Hermione both opened their mouths, but Harry stepped forward to pre-empt them. There was a cold, focused, fury in his eyes as he pushed silently through the Slytherins to the door of the duelling room. It opened as he approached, revealing Aravenne and the four prepared arenas.

The professor muttered as Harry passed. "Your cousin will be fine, but if you do not feel up to fighting today, I shall postpone the semi-finals."

"No." Harry said between clenched teeth. "I'll fight."

He thought he glimpsed an approving look from the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor before he moved on.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry stood still, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the dim lighting. The metallic grating beneath his feet made clanging noises at the slightest movement, so stealth was unlikely to be the most successful tactic, but lighting the rooms with magic would probably cause him to stand out just a little bit more.

He pointed the Abramite at his feet, and muttered a muffling charm. The lighting seemed to lessen ever so slightly, before returning to normal. He took an experimental few paces. Now it sounded as if was walking on hollow wood, but at least it was an improvement of sorts, he thought ironically.

He glanced through the holes in the flooring below him, but saw only blackness, as if there were nothing below him for yards. It was as if Aravenne had deliberately designed it to produce as noisy an echo as possible. The dim lighting came from half-shuttered bulbs on the walls. They looked electric.

The room was filled with storage lockers, and shelves that were accessible from either side. Two doors led from the room – one in front of him, and the other to his right. Harry chose the door on his right, and moved forward as cautiously, and silently, as he could. The room he entered was just as metallic, just as grey, with stairs leading up to an upper gridded floor at the far side of the room.

It looked as though unused, or broken, Muggle machinery was stored in this room, although what their purpose was, Harry couldn't tell. Of course, it may have just been that Aravenne didn't know what Muggle machinery looked like, but Harry doubted it. Harry walked to the stairs, and knelt, spending a short while creating an explosive jinx on the second stair. The way his veins were still coursing with anger, it was likely to be a particularly powerful one.

Again the lighting dipped as he cast the spell, a little more violently this time. Harry was beginning to think he knew why. One of the reasons most Muggle equipment didn't work at Hogwarts was the amount of magic in the area. Perhaps this was something similar.

Harry opened the door on the right hand side of the room again, to reveal a much larger room than its predecessors. It was lit from above by long bars of light, although Harry could see through the ceiling by not looking directly at the lights, so he assumed that there was another floor above him, probably accessed by the top level of the previous room. It looked a hub, of sorts, for many doors opened into it.

Long, deep corridors trenched the room, containing what looked to be gas, or perhaps petrol tanks. The large, cylindrical containers were linked, and stretched from one end of the room to the other. They were bridged, here and there, by platforms slightly above floor level, made from the same grids of metal. The rest of the floor, however, looked to be solid, smooth, rock.

"Deprendo Arcanum."

A faint, greenish glow flew slowly out of his wand in a cone shape in front of him. It spread outwards, fading as it grew larger. The lights dimmed once more as it moved, heightening its effect, and then burned as brightly as ever when the spell was extinguished.

It was a form of the magical identification spell that Hermione had used to crack the passwords in Grimmauld Place, and, she swore, would turn red if it passed over any area which had magic. It was a simple spell – she claimed – even if it was considered too complex for the N.E.W.T. curriculum. There were many other spells that allowed the user to work out exactly what spell had been used, and how powerful they were. Still, Harry thought he at least had the 'easy' version working – although whether he would have been able to or not before his Occlumency might have been a different matter.

Harry walked across the room, following his spell towards the door opposite him. His footfalls echoed once more as he crossed the platforms. He listened for a few seconds, before examining the door. It was larger, and heavier than any door Harry had seen before, and was locked by a rather uncompromising looking wheel. Experimentally, he turned the wheel, but it was heavy, and didn't move easily. A moment of dismay was followed by a feeling of self-deprecation, as he stood back, and raised his wand.

"Alohomora."

The wheel turned smoothly, and a click sounded as the lock was disengaged. He stepped forwards, pulling the door shut behind him as he did so.

The room he entered was also huge, but contained no tanks, nor trenches, but rather crate upon crate of what could have held anything from tools to raw materials to dynamite, and similar sized cylinders which in all likelihood contained whatever it was that was stored in the other room. Three doors covered the wall opposite him, the middle one a double door with some form of tracks grooved in the floor below it, leading to a buffer, and a couple of carts. All of the doors leading into the room seemed to be heavy and sturdy enough to withstand a large blast.

Hanging from the ceiling were two large cranes of some sort, with large, fierce looking claws, which evidently unloaded the carts. What looked to be a large array of computers and machinery filled the upper circle, and Harry assumed the controls for the cranes had to be up there.

Harry cast the cone shaped detection spell once more, and the faintest hint of orange flared as the rightmost door was touched by the faded green light. A second later, the sound of feet on metal came from across the room, from the same direction. Harry hesitated, moved deeper into the room so that he could duck behind a pillar, and then opened the right hand door from afar. The room plunged into darkness.

Harry's first instinct was to put the pillar between himself and the door. He crouched behind it, half kneeling, half crouching, and listened intently.

Silence.

He became aware of the thumping of his heart as he strained his ears, and he slowed his breathing in order to force himself to calm down, and analyse the situation, rather than relying solely on gut instinct.

The lights flickered once, twice, and then returned to blackness. In the split seconds the room was revealed, Harry saw nothing out of place. This seemed rather over the top for it to simply be Muggle electrical items reacting badly to magic, but then his own spells _had_ caused the lights to dim. Perhaps it was a deliberate exaggeration by Aravenne to see how they would react.

Harry frowned. If that were the case, the reason that the room was pitch black, with only the occasional attempt by the lights to work again, was probably some kind of jinx just waiting for him in the next room. That, in turn, meant that Zabini, being a Slytherin, was probably lying in wait for him.

He peered around the pillar, and aimed his wand towards the door, whispering: "Solas."

The bright light illuminated the room as it hit the wall beside the open doorway. No shapes moved, nor answering curses sounded, but most of the room beyond still lay in shadows. Harry waited a few more seconds, continuing to listen. He was tense, and angry from the morning, and itching to get into the middle of the fight, but he would not make the mistake of underestimating his opponent. Zabini was dangerous; all the more so for his outward lack of ego – Malfoy, or another Slytherin might try to gloat, Zabini would just go for the win.

He moved forward, caution losing to the fear of spending too much time in the room. If Zabini wasn't lying in wait, the darkness would be a sure indication of where he was. He sensed as much as saw the crates to his left, and searched the darkness for the tall shape that would signal another pillar. The lights above flickered once more, creating a strobe effect, and he forced himself to move forward quickly rather than hesitate in the open. He hurried into cover, and waited, but the light remained this time.

"Deprendo Arcanum." He repeated.

The green cone did not take long to reach the doorway – Harry was at most ten yards away. As it crossed the threshold it turned a dark shade of crimson. Whatever it was Zabini had left for him, it was powerful, and probably nasty.

Harry approached the door carefully. Theoretically, another charm Hermione had tried to teach him could identify exactly what spell it was that was lying in wait for him. Then it would be an easy matter to disarm it. Theoretically.

There was only one possible reason Zabini would place a powerful curse there, and that was as a weapon, rather than a warning. It was an incongruous place to put a jinx to warn him of Harry's whereabouts – there was no reason Harry had to choose that door if he hadn't realised there was a trap there – so he could rule out the possibility of Zabini circling behind him, ready to take advantage of whatever the jinx did.

So there were two choices. He could be in the room, hidden by the wall separating them, waiting for Harry to spring the trap and then capitalise, but that was unlikely Harry felt. He would then be running the risk of being caught by his own spell, plus the floor was metallic grating, and staying silent on that was nigh impossible, even if standing still.

No, the chances were that Blaise Zabini was waiting behind a door, with another trap the other side of him, and waiting patiently for Harry to set one of them off. _Coward_, Harry thought.

_That meant a more practical approach than Hermione's charm was needed._ Harry thought grimly.

_Accio._ He thought, pointing his Abramite at a small crate. It flew into his grasp, and he held it at arm's reach with his left hand. He concentrated hard, and began the difficult task of transfiguring it into a living, breathing, cat. Faint sounds of movement sounded from beyond the trapped room, and Harry allowed himself a feeling of satisfaction as his reasoning was proved correct. He started on the tail.

With a hiss, the transfigured cat pushed itself away from Harry, leaving some nasty claw marks. It landed, back arched, mere yards from the door, and faced him in a manner that almost seemed both aggressive and defensive at the same time. Harry took a step forward, wand ready to cast a counter curse immediately the cat took a few steps backwards.

Suddenly, the cat's demeanour changed, and it strutted forward purring, its tail held stiffly in the air. To Harry's dismay it attempted to using his legs as a rubbing post.

"Don't." Harry whispered in frustration. "It's much easier if you keep hissing and spitting at me."

He forced himself to remember being shown album upon album of photos of Mrs Figg's cats, and, somewhat guiltily, he pointed his wand at the ground, and cast red sparks, forcing the cat to jump away. Another batch of sparks, and it turned, and ran through the open door.

The reaction was immediate. A green cloud of gas erupted, pushed slowly in Harry's direction by some invisible force.

"Bullatueor!" Harry said instinctively.

The mist hissed as it reached Harry's shield, and he stepped back automatically. A few seconds later, Harry was in a bubble of safe, clean air, surrounded by a gaseous cloud. The poison fizzled around him, but didn't disperse. The longer Harry held the shield up, the more tired he would become, especially after the difficult transfiguration he had just attempted. He needed to do something sooner rather than later.

"Rejicia Maxima." It was Zabini, his shadow standing in front of the door.

Harry sidestepped, his shield moving with him. The curse flew past him, but where it exploded Harry didn't see. He pointed his wand in Zabini's general direction.

"Flabara!"

The bubble shield wavered as the charm flew out, and for a nasty second Harry thought it was going to fail altogether. It didn't.

Zabini ducked, and glanced behind him. The newly created tornado began to suck the gas back towards the Slytherin, and was dragging Harry's opponent towards it too. A desperate gesture, and a few rapid words, and the poisonous mist disappeared, and the lights brightened.

"Falxiardor!" Harry shouted, releasing some of his tension, his shield disappearing as he did so.

Zabini was saved by the whirlwind behind him, for he lost his footing, and was dragged scant centimetres away from the light of Harry's curse, which burnt the back wall viciously. A filing cabinet struck him on its way into the air, and he flew across the room.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Zabini yelled out again, wand movement struggling to stay accurate as he was pulled this way and that.

"Sæptus!" Harry yelled, creating a large barrier of shimmering air in front of him.

Zabini's aim was so wild, that it missed Harry's shield completely, hitting the wall behind him, somewhere near the upper tier. Harry ducked to his left, trying to keep Zabini in sight now that he had the advantage.

"Tarantallegra!" Harry yelled, going for the simplest jinx he could think of.

Another explosive spell flew above his head in reply, and a large crash sounded; one of the two cranes had been hit. With a screech of metal, it pulled in two, half of it crashing down to the floor. Harry dived out of the way, hastily casting a Protego shield. Bits and pieces flew across the room, destroying the cart that was waiting to be loaded and sent on its way, and hitting the cylinders, causing liquid to spill.

_Bugger. _This is what Ron did to him in chess. Every time Harry got close to launching a stunning attack, Ron would do something to make Harry wonder about his rear. If these wild spells hit the wrong thing, then the whole room could explode. There was obviously a reason for the heavy blast doors. With a wave of his wand, Harry cancelled the tornado. It was proving as problematic as it was useful. Each time he aimed, his opponent got dragged away somewhere else, and he had no way of knowing where Zabini's spells would end up.

As the elemental force (along with everything inside the tornado) disappeared, Zabini was sent flying across into a corner of the room out of Harry's sight. Both of them were the worse for wear, although Harry still felt that there was still an advantage there if he could only think of it. He thought to the illusions that Professor McGonagall had mentioned to them a week or two ago; an illusion of a person walking through the door would be just the thing right now, but, judging by his earlier performance in her class, his hopes of any kind of transfiguration involving people were nil at best. Although at least the cat had done its job.

"Incendio!" Harry tried, hoping that there was still enough inside the room that might burn, and distract his opponent, while he sought to find him.

An incendiary spell of the Slytherin's own shot through the door, and Harry swivelled out of the way, yelling "Mutucutus" as loud as he could. The shield barely prevented the spell from reaching the leaking barrels. Harry had to either end it now, or trust himself to withstand a mighty explosion. Another curse from Zabini aimed towards a different set of barrels, and Harry was hard pressed to stop the inevitable ignition.

Finally, he got a glimpse of his opponent, and, feeling frustration more than anything, attempted a wand motion that he had never seen being used before, but yet had felt its effects first hand, and read a lot about how it should be cast.

"Quassossis." The brown curse shot towards the slightly surprised Blaise Zabini, who continued his own flammable curses, and tried to dodge Harry's curse via an inelegant dive.

Three things happened in very quick succession. Zabini fell backwards; a large explosion resounded behind Harry, as something had finally lit; and the door between Harry and his prey slam shut as a wailing sound indicated that a general shutdown was underway for that room.

Reactions came to Harry's rescue once more, for he was forming the proper movement for the Bullatueor spell in his head with realising it, and wordlessly saying the incantation even as the lights failed for good. A second and then a third explosion swiftly followed, and searing flames rushed to meet him, meeting his newly erected Bubble shield.

Harry's first look was upwards, for while this particular spell was effective against energy, and mist like attacks, it had a weakness against physical objects. But if he removed this shield in order to cast another, he was likely to roast. His mind flitted back, seemingly irrationally, to Florean Fortescue, and everything he had told him about witch burning, and one witch in particular who enjoyed it.

"Congelipse." Harry muttered, slightly doubtfully, and allowed his shield to dissolve.

A faint tickling feeling hit his back, and traced its way down his sides, causing him to shudder. He blinked, as the flames rushed past him, before a rather noisy sound made him look up. Part of the upper floor was collapsing.

"Reducto!" Harry shouted quickly, trying to split the flooring before it squashed him.

He was thinking the Protego spell even before he could sound the words for it, and the most basic of the shields provided enough protection to block the fragments that fell on top of him, or ricocheted in his direction. More loud explosions sounded from upon high in the upper room, but the inferno melted everything before anything solid could reach Harry. Luckily, the fact that the ground was mainly stone in this area, and packed earth below, meant that Harry's footholds were probably secure.

A faint tickling was now covering his body, irritatingly reaching his armpits and feet, where he had always been ticklish. (A fact he had been careful to avoid letting the Weasleys or Hermione know.) Still, as Harry looked around at the dazzling inferno which was only just beginning to reduce into fast fading miniature fires, he felt he'd rather that than the alternative.

He pointed his wand at the door which had locked itself firmly at the sound of danger; still working wordlessly,

_Reducto!_ He thought, trying to focus his thoughts into one powerful spell.

The door buckled, but held, a large dent adorning the centre of it, Harry paused, knowing the oxygen in the room was probably decreasing rapidly, and toxic fumes were spewing out, yet also knowing that he needed to be prepared for what was waiting on the other side. Zabini could be at his full strength, or at least ready for Harry's next move.

_Oscul Majora._ He thought, as a renewed rush of heat rushed past him, and he felt light feathers stroke his body.

The door swung open as though it were unlocked all the time, and the room was once more ablaze with light. Zabini looked towards Harry with a face on disbelief, from his vantage point on his bottom on the floor. The sight of Harry walking through a room of flames had obviously robbed him of the ability to think quickly, for his mouth opened, but no spell came out.

"Expelliarmus." Harry said with finality.

Zabini's wand flew out of his hand, and scuttled across the room to his left. Zabini pushed himself backwards with his hands, noticeably unable to put weight on his legs. Harry glanced at them.

"Think yourself lucky that you can't feel the pain from your bones being turned to mush." He said sardonically.

Zabini sniffed disdainfully. "It wasn't particularly powerful, barely a break."

"I could always practice." Harry shot back, raising his wand again.

Zabini laughed derisively, as if he were the one who could toy with Harry, before winning. Harry stepped into the room, and raised his wand.

"Deprendo Arcanum." He said, pointing his wand towards Zabini.

A red blob appeared between Harry and the Slytherin, and Zabini laughed again, but this time raised his hands in submission.

"Okay, I yield. It was worth a try." His face broke into a wry smile. "Just one favour Potter."

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously, as the gong sounded to signal the end of the fight, and Harry's victory, at Zabini's submission.

"Beat Malfoy in the final." He said, pushing himself to his feet.

He glanced towards the Slytherin stand, where Draco Malfoy was sitting after obviously winning his bout, as Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Because he's full of himself enough already." Zabini said, answering the unasked question, and picking up his wand from where it lay on the ground. "Good luck Potter."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Captains!" Madam Hooch's voice boomed out across the Quidditch pitch.

Ron and Cho Chang approached her, both trying to look confident, but Ron at least wasn't doing a great job of it. It took a momentary glance from Harry to see why: a pair of red heads were in the Gryffindor crowd, dressed as garishly as the colours of red and gold would allow. Harry had no idea why Fred and George were there to see the match, but he groaned inwardly. Still, with a little bit of luck, Ron would forget about them once the match started.

Ron shook hands with the Ravenclaw Seeker, who looked as aggressive as Harry had ever seen her. She looked as if she was trying to break Ron's hand, in complete disregard to their respective physiques.

"Come on lads!" Harry yelled, as the Captains returned to their places, seeing as Ron seemed as though he wasn't going to say something. "Let's show these Ravenclaws how to play!"

He gave Ron a glare as he passed, who belatedly said something encouraging, as the team got ready to push off. The twins gave a large cheer as he reached his broom; whether they were deliberately being sarcastic or not, Harry couldn't tell, but Ron looked like he took it that way. Harry raised his eyes in supplication, and kicked off.

He shot into the air, barely aware of the Quaffle as it was thrown in by Madam Hooch. A quick glance had confirmed what he had expected to happen – Cho was tailing him. In fact she was looking far more interested in where Harry was going than where the Snitch might be. Seeing as it was almost impossible to sight the Snitch when flattened against the broomstick, and flying at full tilt, he resigned himself to a game where Cho would hover a few feet below or beside him, moving as he did, and preparing to block him if he tried to accelerate away.

Ritchie smashed an approaching Bludger away from the two of them, but the Ravenclaw Beaters had obviously been assigned to harass the Gryffindor Chasers, for they quickly left Harry and Cho to their own devices, and Dean had to move fast to protect Demelza Robins from the other ball.

Almost immediately, Harry found himself having to swerve as Cho blocked him. It was perfectly legal of course, but it would have also have been legal if he had ploughed straight into her. A memory of Oliver Wood entered his head, but instead of a smile, Cho looked as though she had been relishing a collision.

Cho had been avoiding Harry since he had spurned her advances after the DA session, and the far smaller seventh year looked as if she was quite willing to get up close and personal in a rather different manner.

"Hall hath no fury…" Harry muttered to himself, before Cho moved to block him again.

Harry moved just slightly this time, not enough to avoid her completely, and so flicking the brush of her broom. A chorus of cheers greeted the contact, and Cho's broom flew momentarily out of control. Harry spurted forwards and away in an attempt to maximise the time he had gained to look for the Snitch, forcing himself not to look to see if Cho was alright or not.

Below Harry, the Ravenclaws seemed to be taking a leaf out of the Slytherins' book, for they were targeting Demelza furiously, and she was spending as much time dodging, as playing with the Quaffle. Ron was unusually silent as he guarded the rings; he had spent much of the Slytherin match directing the flyers in front of him – apart from Harry – but he looked drawn and nervous today.

Harry zoomed to the opposite side of the stadium, trying to prolong his Cho-free time. A roar sounded, with Jerome Bulley (the commentator) sounding the loudest of all.

"And ten – zero to Ravenclaw! What a start to the game! This is just what the game needed – now the Gryffindor team know they're in for a match. A couple more goals and we'll see if they have what it takes. Come on RAVENCLAW!" He ended with a shout, which was echoed by the Ravenclaws around the ground.

Harry ignored him, and continued his search, diving low to the ground to gain a different view point, and make it harder for Cho to follow him. He veered back up as he neared the Ravenclaw hoops, and a gasp from the crowd made him swivel his broom round and hover on the spot. Both Ravenclaw Beaters had struck their respective Bludgers at the same time towards Ron, in a move that might have even made the watching Weasley twins proud.

Ron had to decide whether to concede the goal, or attempt to save the Quaffle that was heading towards his left hoop and avoid the incoming obstacles at the same time. He dived towards the red ball, diverting it onto the frame of the hoop with desperate fingertips. Before the crowd could yell its appreciation, he had been dealt a crunching blow to the ribs, and was soaring backwards, and downwards, from the impact.

Harry heard a scream from the Gryffindor stand, and watched in horror as Ron tried to straighten his free fall. The brush of the broom hit the ground first, and he careered off it at an angle, sliding across the ground, until he hit the bottom of the stand. High above him, a Ravenclaw Chaser put the Quaffle through an unguarded hoop.

Ginny was first to Ron's side, but even in the short time that had taken, Ron had struggled to his hands and knees, spitting what looked suspiciously like blood out of his mouth, and clutching his ribs. He spied Madam Pomfrey a second after Harry did, hurrying from the stand, and got to his feet a little unsteadily. Ginny said something, and Ron grinned.

He winced as he walked forwards to grab his broom, but nevertheless shouted out in a voice which was as loud as he could muster:

"If it's a fight they want lads, it's a fight they'll get!"

He mounted his broom to a roar of sound from the Gryffindor support, and a shout of reproach as Madam Pomfrey's patient escaped.

"Weasley is our king!  
Weasley is our king!  
He can save anything –  
Weasley is our king!"

Seamus' broad Irish accent was busy making new lyrics, or perhaps reciting prepared ones, and shouted out in a lone voice, to the repetitions of the willing crowd.

"Weasley was born fighting,  
He won't ever give in!  
So he will block every ring –  
Weasley is our king!"

"Oof!" Harry spun around wildly.

Cho had arrowed straight for him. He quickly righted himself and glared at her. For her part, Cho was looking daggers at him. Two identically loud wolf-whistles sounded from the crowd. One loud Quidditch whistle sounded from the pitch.

Madam Hooch flew towards them from the other end of the pitch.

"Playing rough, huh?" Harry asked.

"You had your chance Potter." Cho told him, before moving forward in order to protest her innocence to Madam Hooch.

"It's not my fault he wasn't paying attention and got in my way Madam–"

"Captains!" Madam Hooch interrupted with a brusque shout, summoning Ron to join them.

Harry studied his friend as he approached. He didn't look particularly good, he was sitting far too upright on the broom.

"Are you fit to compete?" The referee asked brusquely.

"Yeah." Ron replied, looking anything but; Cho had a look of satisfaction on her face.

"The Tornadoes hater." She said callously.

"Very well Mr Weasley. If you two –" She signalled Cho and Ron, Harry was forgotten a mere two yards away, "– want to turn this into a bloodbath, then that is fine by me. But," she continued ominously, "if a challenge is not legal, I will blow for a penalty. And that is even if you claim you were not Blatching, and I think you were, Miss Chang, is that understood?"

Cho shrugged and nodded her agreement, Ron responded with a curt: "Fine."

"I would add that that challenge on you was perfectly legal Mr Weasley – you will not be allowed any substitution, is that understood?"

"Yeah." Ron said, as Madam Hooch turned to retrieve the Quaffle to throw it back in. "Painfully." He muttered to Harry with a wince, before returning to guard the Gryffindor hoops.

"You ready for more Potter?" Cho challenged him.

She feinted as though to charge into him, or 'Blatch' as deliberately flying to collide was known in Quidditch, and whistled past his left ear. She turned on the spot and hovered almost directly above him.

"I could just wait here until we have a hundred and sixty more points than you." Harry told her, irritated by her continued presence.

"Really?" Cho said venomously. "Your Keeper can barely fly let alone save anything."

Harry winced, it sounded like Cho was as hurt as Ron was, albeit in a different manner. He rose upwards, until he was at the same level as Cho.

"Look, I'm sorry–"

"Don't bother Potter, I'm moving on." She sniped.

"THIRTY – NIL TO RAVENCLAW! And the Gryffindor captain seems to be badly injured." Jerome Bulley roared out. "It looks like Ravenclaw are more than able to capitalise as –"

"Still going to just wait here until you're up by a couple of hundred?" Cho asked mockingly.

Harry shot forwards and resumed his search. Cho followed in hot pursuit.

To Harry's dismay, Cho appeared to be right. Ron was hurt. Every save he made caused him to double up in pain, and all too often the Quaffle was sailing out of his reach. It was taking some superb Chaser work from Katie, Ginny, and Demelza to keep Gryffindor in touch, and Harry had yet to catch sight of the Golden Snitch at eighty – forty down.

He dived sharply, before flicking his broom back up in a frustrated attempt to lose Cho. At most he was gaining a few seconds at a time to look for the Snitch, which was nowhere near enough. The smash of bat on ball sounded from below him, and he automatically rolled away from the Bludger.

"What the hell are you doing Dean?" Ginny shouted angrily.

"My job!" Dean shouted back furiously, swooping down to block the other Bludger.

"Your job isn't to try and kill Harry!" She screamed back, fumbling the Quaffle, and allowing Chambers to intercept.

"He can look after himself," Dean said heatedly, "_right_? Besides, I was aiming for Chang."

"Well you nearly took Harry's head off."

"Will you two get back to playing the game?" Katie's anguished voice rang out as she sped back towards Ron's hoops.

Ninety – forty. A few minutes later, Ravenclaw reached the hundred. Ron called for timeout, looking white from equal amounts of pain and fury. Dean and Ginny resumed their argument, and were still flying alongside trading words as the rest of the team dismounted.

"You two stop fighting and get down here." Ron yelled in absolute fury – and a barely concealed look of pain.

Harry heard Fred and George whoop in appreciation, but Ron ignored them.

"Hey! Don't blame me!" Dean said in an aggrieved voice.

"I don't care Thomas, shut it. You too Gin." He said angrily, causing Ginny's ears to go a Ron-like shade of red. "If you two want to fight, then do it after the match. This is more important. This is the Quidditch Cup, this is _our_ Quidditch Cup, and we're fighting with ourselves as much as them. See that lot?" He pointed towards the Ravenclaws. "They're laughing right now, because we're doing their job for them. Harry, you're trying to beat Chang to the Snitch, not chat her up."

Harry opened his mouth angrily, before he realised what Ron was doing. By choosing Harry to castigate first, he was showing he wasn't making favourites. Even if the criticism was completely unfair, and he knew Harry might shove it down his throat later. Still, he couldn't _not_ make a retort.

"She's not my type, _Captain_." He replied darkly.

"Then stop flirting with her and find that Snitch. We need a quick Snitch when we start again, because of my stupidity in getting hit by that Bludger. Right? Fly around the pitch a dozen times if you need to in order to lose Chang, but get that Snitch.

"Demelza, you're doing great." Ron continued. "They've given up trying to hit you, because you're too quick for them, try taking on their Chasers, you're too quick for them too."

"Katie, Ginny, I need you two to give me protection. I might be injured, but I can still block most of their shots as long as you two force them to shoot from long range. Keep them out of the scoring area, right? And Ginny, keep your mind on the game, not on other people."

Ginny looked furious, and Harry had a feeling that Ron was risking more than a beating from him after the match, but she didn't say anything.

"Dean, Ritchie, concentrate on their Chasers. We're going to have to play defensively, and stop them getting their shots in, alright? Dean, leave Harry and Chang alone, unless Harry has some distance–"

Dean opened his mouth angrily.

"I said shut it Dean." Ron roared. "You have the power but not the accuracy. You protect me and the Chasers. No buts. Ritchie, if you get a chance, try another of those moves you and Harry worked on, but otherwise leave them alone too, understood?"

"Gotcha." Ritchie said confidently.

Madam Hooch was walking towards them to see if they were ready to resume.

"Right lads, take your positions, and let's show them what we've got." Ron finished.

Harry delayed slightly, and he was the only one to see the look of agony on Ron's face.

"Look mate, get a painkilling potion off Madam Pomfrey or something." He said quietly.

Ron shook his head. "Naw." He muttered. "She'd drag me up to the Hospital Wing. You know that. And, Harry," he hesitated, "you know why I said that stuff, right?"

"Yeah." Harry mounted his broom, but Ron touched his arm to stop him.

"But I'm not kidding when I said we need an early Snitch, okay."

Harry gave a quick nod, and rose back into the air.

"And the players take the field again," Bulley's voice boomed out unnecessarily, "do they have what it takes to cope with the Ravenclaw team this time? Ravenclaw looked almost unbeatable before that time out."

Boos, and jeers from the Gryffindors – conducted by the Weasley twins – drowned out the rest of his commentary, but Harry wasn't listening to it anyway. He was a rubbish commentator compared to Lee Jordan, he'd decided. Cho headed straight towards him again, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you getting bored of this?" He asked, before accelerating without waiting for the reply.

Cho hared after him, and Harry turned into a sharp vertical ascent. Higher and higher he rose with the Ravenclaw Seeker gradually falling further behind as he moved in a purely perpendicular trajectory. He increased the angle, until he was fighting gravity, and starting to fly upside down. That was too much for Cho, and she tumbled away, trying desperately to right herself. He rolled, and sped back down, and away from Cho.

Two whoops sounded from the crowd, one appreciative of Harry's flying, the other for another Ravenclaw goal. One hundred and ten – forty down. Harry could almost hear Ron's voice screaming at him to find the Snitch. He refused to allow himself to blink behind his glasses as he searched for the small, golden, winged ball. It was fluttering in the middle of the Chasers.

Harry hunched down, and forced the Firebolt to give everything it had. He ducked Katie, and had to use a modified version of the Sloth Grip roll in order to avoid one of the Ravenclaw Beaters – no mean feat while zooming through the air at some ridiculous speed. The Snitch plummeted, and Harry followed. He was gaining, and Cho was still nowhere in sight. In front of him, Ginny had the Quaffle, and had seen a gap to the posts; they were going to do it.

Harry reached out, missing the ball by millimetres, and then forced himself to regain his speed rather than risk losing the catch. He stretched out again, able to feel the tiny beating of the wings against his fingers; all he had to do was close his hand…

In front of him, in his direct line of sight, Ginny threw the Quaffle, and then reared up. A stricken looking Dean had just seen his Bludger dodged, and it was heading straight towards Ginny. It clanged as it hit her broomstick, and she was sent hurtling through the air, towards the ground below Harry. Harry closed his hand with an almost nervous twitch, and the Snitch slipped out of his fingers.

"And Potter has missed the Snitch!" Bulley bellowed. "POTTER HAS MISSED THE SNITCH!"

Harry wasn't listening. He forced his dive to sharpen, and sped in a course that would intercept Ginny's. Her face was white, and she had no hope of pulling out of the tumble before she hit the ground, Harry knew; the ground was a mere matter of yards away. He stuck his arm out below him, hanging on by just an arm and a leg, and yelled out as loudly as he could.

"Let go Ginny! Grab my hand!"

His shoulder wrenched, and suddenly his own flight dipped. He willed his Firebolt to slow, but he could barely control it with just one hand and leg. Ginny had grabbed his wrist. Somehow they seemed to be slowing, although they were still approaching the ground at a frightening rate. He vaguely appreciated that Ginny's broomstick had slammed into the ground yards away. He glanced up at his Firebolt, and their momentum decelerated; the ground wasn't veering towards them quite as quickly.

Harry looked down to see the very pale face of Ginny, and her arm hanging on for dear life, as her robes streamed out behind her. He tried to roll back up onto the broom, but couldn't manage it with the extra weight, so the best he could do was slow their descent. Ginny let go and rolled as soon as they were low enough, and Harry practically jumped off the broom himself.

"Are you alright?" He asked anxiously; Ginny was on her knees.

Ginny managed a nod, and a dodgy smile. She sat back on her heels, and caught her breath.

"My hero." She managed, with just a fraction of her normal humour finding its way into her voice; she was gaining a bit more colour too.

"Ginny!" Dean yelled, swooping down, and jumping off his broom. "Ginny, God I'm sorry, are you okay?"

Harry put himself between Ginny and Dean. "What the hell was that?" He asked coldly. "You could have… you could have killed her!"

"Ginny." Dean said again, and tried to push around Harry, but Harry refused to move.

Distantly, Harry could hear the Weasley twins chanting his name, and it was quickly taken up by the rest of the (non-Slytherin) crowd.

**_Harry! Harry! Harry!_**

"Get out of the way, Harry." Dean said, in a tone of desperation.

"You're going to leave her alone." Harry told him angrily, pushing him backwards.

Before either of them could say another word, or do another thing, Ritchie Coote was standing between them, keeping the two older boys at arms' length. Harry turned, without acknowledging him, and bent back down to Ginny.

"Are you okay?" He asked again, and offered an arm.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She got to her feet with Harry's help. "Who hit the Bludger?" She asked.

"Dean did." Harry said tersely, and turned to the Beater, the chants of '**_Harry_**' echoing around the pitch.

Dean looked at the two of them, and then at the Gryffindor trying to stop the situation from escalating, and turned on his heel.

"Screw this." He yelled, and stomped towards the changing rooms. A chorus of boos and jeers sounded as the crowd realised what he was doing.

"What the hell are you doing Thomas?" Ron yelled, but Dean ignored him.

A booming voice shocked most of the crowd into silence. It appeared that Seamus had discovered the Sonorus charm, which was probably a dangerous combination in any circumstances.

"Get on your bloody broom you-"

A ripple of laughter and applause followed the colourful language that he started to direct at his friend, which was possibly enough to earn him a detention from Professor McGonagall if he was unlucky. Dean paused, and locked eyes with Seamus, and in the time that took, Madam Hooch had landed and was ordering him back on his broom. When he didn't move, she blew her whistle to award Ravenclaw a penalty.

"Get in the air you great twat, or do you want to cost us the game?" Seamus roared.

Reluctantly, Dean got onto his broom, without catching the eyes of any of his team-mates, and flew into a lonely part of the air.

"Here Ginny." Katie said softly from beside them, handing her her broom, which looked rather the worse for wear but still flyable. "Look, we better get in the air, or she might give more penalties against us."

Madam Hooch was flying towards them now.

"And Chambers goes forward to take the penalty, and… YES! He puts it past the helpless Keeper. One hundred and twenty to Ravenclaw, forty for Gryffindor! Who would have bet on this at the start of the match?"

_Not me_. Harry admitted to himself, as he rubbed his shoulder.

Eighty points down, and practically a Beater short, for Dean looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there. In fact, Harry would have rather he hadn't woken up today either. Another cheer from the Ravenclaw drove home the realisation that if he didn't catch the Snitch soon, it might not matter.

"Trying to ruin another relationship, Potter?" Cho Chang said from his right hand side. Harry sped up, but she stayed alongside him. "At this rate all your team will be injured."

Suddenly furious at Cho's attitude towards his friends, Harry swerved to his left, in doing so clouting the back of Cho's head with the brush of his broom. He was almost gratified by the look of shock on her face as she was slammed into the handle of her own broom. Madam Hooch's whistle sounded.

"_Another_ penalty for Ravenclaw." Bulley shouted joyfully. "And Potter looks to be losing his cool; are we going to see another punch up?"

Not trusting himself to keep his temper in check, Harry sped down the pitch. If he wasn't careful he'd do some wandless magic. _Wouldn't that be the perfect end to a perfect match?_

Ten minutes later, Ravenclaw had scored five more goals, and Gryffindor only pulled three back. One hundred and ninety against seventy. Another cheer. Two hundred.

Harry looked around, and tried to understand what was wrong: Ron was silent, and looked like he might fall off the broom at any minute, but the rest of the team looked like they just didn't believe they had a chance, and without Ron to direct them, they were stuck there, bereft of confidence. Ironically, the two next most natural leaders were probably Ginny and Dean, and neither looked like they could concentrate on the game.

Bradley intercepted a pass from Ginny to Demelza, and was through on goal, with no defence left to protect Ron. Out of desperation, Harry flew the broom straight towards him. He wasn't allowed to touch the Quaffle, but maybe he could put him off. Bradley simply passed the ball out to his left, and the ball was put past a helpless Ron by Ravenclaw's only female Chaser, Anita Green.

A growing sense of desperation was building up inside Harry, and he shot off in a random direction, desperately looking for the Snitch. Cho was back on his tail.

"What was it you were saying about a hundred and sixty points ahead Potter?" She taunted.

Harry accelerated, until he knew he had reached the limit of Cho's broom's speed, and then slammed on the brakes. Cho shot past him. He looked around wildly. _Where was the Snitch?_

He shot off to his right, and to his excitement, he thought he saw a flash of light. A roar sounded, Bulley once more foremost in sound.

"What a shot! GOAL! It must have been half the pitch! I love you Anita! Come on RAVENCLAW! One hundred and fifty points ahead! I can't believe it! And… YES! Anita has the ball again! Come on Anita, shoot! SHOOT!"

Harry could see the Snitch now, it was fluttering beside the staff stands. He had to get the Snitch. A draw wasn't as bad as a loss. He had to get it. He had to get it.

"Harry!" A painful shout from Ron alerted him to the fact that Cho was right behind him.

He was almost there, just a few more yards. He glanced around frantically, and with a shot of fear, he realised Cho was going to risk giving away a penalty by flying straight into him. If he lost sight of the Snitch now it was all over.

Harry took a deep breath, and rolled off his broom, holding on with just the fingers of his right hand. Cho shot overhead, and landed tangled in the canopy of the stand, barely missing Argus Filch. Madam Pomfrey's whistle sounded, and a loud groan came from the commentator.

"OOOHHH! She's given a penalty, Cho went out of bounds. And Chambers was about to score as well. I suppose it'll be Bell to take the penalty."

Harry grabbed with his left hand, and found the shaft of the broom. He pulled himself up, and looked around desperately. He spotted the Snitch again; it was still hugging the side of the pitch, and was flying down towards the Ravenclaw end. Katie was flying towards the hoops from the halfway line, and Harry put on a spurt in a parallel course to her. He had a free course; no-one could get to the Snitch first, block him, or even send a Bludger his way. All he had to do was grab the Snitch.

"And Bell enters the scoring area – she feints, but Blatherly isn't fooled. Bell shoots, but the Ravenclaw Keeper gets a hand to i- Potter's got the Snitch! The game is over! Potter caught the Snitch. Two hundred and twenty points each! It's a tie! What a game! And how unlucky were Ravenclaw, after dominating the match…"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Good to see you Harry–" Fred began.

"But we've got to go and talk to Dean Thomas." His twin finished.

"No you don't." Ginny said sharply from behind them. "_I've_ got to go and have a heart to heart with him. You two aren't going to be anywhere near us. Thank you Harry." She added sincerely, and flashed a smile. "I'll see you guys later."

Fred and George watched her go with surprising expressions of glee.

"Oh I love it when she gets into a mood like that." Fred told Harry.

"As long as it's not at us." George interjected.

Fred put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Now, if you want to see what a Bat-Bogey hex can do in the hands of a ferocious young Weasley, walk this way."

He pushed Harry with him for a couple of paces, but George put his hand out. "Wait Fred, this could be dangerous."

His twin looked at him, and then nodded. "Right. Disillusionment charms it is. Okay Harry, you won't feel a thing."

Harry pulled out of Fred's reach. "No." He said calmly.

"Trust me Harry, you don't want to miss this."

"Doesn't matter. Ginny wants us to miss it, and she's had a rough enough day already."

George raised his eyes skywards. "Ye gods! What have they done to you in the year since we left Harry?"

"Didn't we teach you anything? It's only fun if you might get caught."

"You taught me plenty." Harry told them. "Like you can always trust a Weasley to be there for you when you need them, and right now, Ginny needs us to be nowhere near her."

Fred shook his head sorrowfully. "You're forgetting the other part, Harry. You can always trust a Weasley to be there when you don't need them too."

"I'm not going to stalk her." Harry said flatly. "And neither are you."

Fred and George shared a glance.

"Getting protective are you Harry?" George asked innocently.

"It must be sort of romantic." Fred told them. "You know, getting plucked out of certain doom by a dashing figure on a broomstick."

"Yes, maybe it's going to her head?"

"How would you like to see how well _I_ can cast the Bat-Bogey hex?" Harry asked them threateningly.

Fred and George paused and then as one continued seriously. "What else has she been teaching you?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Ginny is going out with Dean." Harry told them through his teeth; he did not feel like putting up with the twins right now.

Fred glanced at his watch. "I give them five more minutes."

"Depends how long it takes Ginny to find him." George mused. "If we stroll up to check on Ron we might see Dean going into the Hospital Wing."

"He deserves it after that match." Fred said darkly. "As Gryffindor Old Boys, I think we should make sure he ends up there George. That was pathetic."

"And no one hurts Ginny and gets away with it." George added. "Well, unless it's one of our pranks."

"I'm amazed Ginny ever goes out with anyone." Harry said theatrically. "What with five brothers ready to pulverise him if they have a row."

"Six, judging by the way you looked out there, Harry." Fred said, thumbing towards the pitch behind them. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To check on Ron." Harry answered. "And maybe see if Dean's up there yet."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"What happened?" Ron asked miserably. "I mean, we're miles better than them."

"Not your fault mate." George said in a surprising air of condolence. "The way you kept going after that hit…"

"Made us proud to have you as a Weasley, and we never thought we'd say that." Fred added. "But why'd you make a useless prat like that a Beater?"

"I know." Ron moaned. "I messed up. But I mean, he did fine against Slytherin."

"I think he was worse than Sloper, and that's saying something."

"But I should have done something to stop it. Like, I dunno, yell at him, and tell him where to go or something."

"Ron." Harry said quietly. "You could barely ride your broomstick, let alone shout. One of us should have taken over, and organised everyone, not you."

"Quidditch." Madam Pomfrey said angrily, bustling towards Ron. "You should have seen me immediately." She pointed an accusing finger at Ron, "there's no telling how much extra damage you did to yourself."

"Hermione's already given me this lecture." Ron said quietly, as Madam Pomfrey went to get another potion for Ron.

Hermione was sitting at the end of Ron's bed looking ashen faced. She hadn't said much since Harry and the twins had entered, but Harry had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking, and what she might have said to Ron.

"Ron." George said firmly. "You're worse than Wood was when we lost that match in third year. You drew. So what? All you have to do is win your last match, right?"

"Just make sure you have a different Beater." Fred added.

"Why did you come to watch the match, anyway?" Ron asked, as though just realising they weren't in Hogwarts anymore.

"Damn." George muttered. "We forgot to talk to the Ravenclaws."

"Business." Fred said, by way of explanation. "Those Quidditch chess sets we made? We're starting to roll out the production of them."

"Problem is, we need permission from the Hogwarts students of each team." George said. "We figured we'd persuade the Ravenclaws after the match, but I guess we'll just have to catch them later. Ron here, is going to make sure the Gryffindor team agrees."

"I am?" Ron asked.

"If we're going to have to give you some of the profits you're going to have to do some work." Fred told him. "See if you can work on the Hufflepuffs too – if I have to see Zacharias Smith again I might decapitate him."

"Who's persuading the Slytherins?" Hermione asked, a bit of life showing its face in her body language.

"We have a few ideas." George answered. "Worst comes to the worst, then we'll add a huge notice talking about how the Slytherins refused to allow replicas of them to be made, so we decided to use 'famous' old Slytherins instead. Like pictures of Death Eaters, and You-Know-Who, all suitably altered and jinxed."

"But it won't come to that." Fred said confidently. "We're offering them fame after all. We simply get binding agreements from all of them but Malfoy, and then go after him."

"I'm going to need you to remove your trousers." Madam Pomfrey told Ron as he finished the latest potion. "If you would allow me to draw the curtains please." She said towards Harry, Fred, George, and Hermione.

"Don't worry." Fred said. "Hermione won't see anything she hasn't seen before."

"I see." Madam Pomfrey said, eyes widening. "Perhaps we should have a word later, Miss Granger."

Harry, Fred, and George burst out in gales of laughter. Harry hadn't seen colour enter someone's face quite as quickly as Hermione's. As for Ron – well Fred was lucky he was injured.

"Don't trust a word they say, Madam Pomfrey." Ron said through his teeth.

"What's so funny?" A tired looking Ginny asked from the door.

Fred looked at George, and then grinned. "Nothing. Why are you here? I thought it would be Dean."

"I thought I'd better get my shoulder looked at." Ginny said, but Harry thought he heard a faint crack in her voice, and recognised something in her face.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

Fred and George shut up, and looked at him.

"I'm fine." She replied. "It's just my shoulder hurts like hell."

"Dean-" Fred began.

"We've broken up." Ginny said. "And leave it at that."

There was definitely a sob in her voice this time.

"Ginny-" George began to protest.

"Just let it be." Ginny pleaded, and there were tears in her eyes. "Please, just, let me be."

Fred and George looked at each other for a long while, as if they were communicating silently. As one they stood up.

"Gin." Fred said, in a voice Harry had never heard him use before. "We're staying in Hogsmeade tonight at the Three Broomsticks. If you need us, you know where we are."

Ginny swallowed. "Hogs-?"

"Yeah. We need to talk to Dumbledore tomorrow." George said with a slight hesitation. "Business."

"You know, the Quidditch chess." Fred supplied.

_Or in other words, Order business._ Harry looked at Madam Pomfrey, who looked as though she had seen something he hadn't in Ginny. She stepped forwards.

"Come on Miss Weasley; let's take a look at that shoulder.

"If you're taking off your shirt, you're doing that behind curtains." Fred called back.

Hermione got up from the foot of the bed, and went with Madam Pomfrey and Ginny, leaving Harry and Ron alone.

"I should probably get Madam Pomfrey to check my shoulder too." Harry said, rubbing it.

"That was amazing mate." Ron said. "Th-"

"Don't say it." Harry cut him off in a warning whisper. "I wasn't going to let her crash."

"Do me a favour, and draw the curtains." Ron said, changing the subject.

"Why?"

"Because I want to be out of here as soon as possible, and if I have to strip to get out of here, I'd rather do it without people looking in through the door."

Harry snorted. "You should have seen your face." He told him

"Prats." Ron said in disgust.

They heard a sob through the curtains. Ginny was obviously crying.

"I practically had to stop him jumping in the lake." Her muffled voice said. "He- I don't know what to do." She obviously burst into tears again.

Harry and Ron looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Mate." Ron said slowly. "Nothing we just heard, leaves this room."

Harry nodded, but neither he nor Ron could avoid hearing Ginny's next words.

"He's been different since Y- You-K- V-Voldemort attacked his family. He's fine on the outside but he… It's like he's given up, and he thinks V-Voldemort is going to win. It's-"

Harry withdrew his wand, and placed a silencing charm on the curtain between them. Ron nodded. They swallowed, and looked at each other, neither knowing what to say.

"Nothing leaves this room." Harry repeated.

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed the Quidditch match; now I have to think of an original third one... :-/ _


	26. Death

**Chapter 26: Death**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting quietly by the fire in the Gryffindor common room – Ginny had gone up to her dormitory almost immediately. The four of them had left the Hospital Wing at the same time, and Hermione had taken Harry aside.

"What did you and Ron hear?" She asked tentatively.

"The first bit." Harry said awkwardly. "We cast a silencing charm after that. And we swore we wouldn't mention it. Ever."

Hermione looked as though her eyes were brimming with tears, and she glanced ahead to where Ron was protectively guarding Ginny. Harry followed her gaze.

"Don't be too hard on him Hermione."

Hermione stopped, causing him to stop too, and quite unexpectedly she threw her arms around him, with an almost Mrs Weasley like hug.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You two…" She sniffed.

"Hey! That's _my _girlfriend Harry!" Ron said from in front of them in amusement, before clapping his hand to his mouth at his admission.

Hermione went pink.

"I think we'd worked it out already Ron." Harry told him dryly.

After that, the three of them had been quite content to remain silent, and Ginny had hardly said a word before going up the girls' staircase. The atmosphere inside Gryffindor Tower was muted; no-one quite knew how to react to the drawing of a Quidditch match. There wasn't the excitement of a victory, but there wasn't the misery of a loss, either. It was bound to change.

A wall of aggression seemed to appear out of nowhere as the portrait hole opened, and Dean Thomas stepped through. He was still dressed in his Quidditch robes, and made a dishevelled figure, but it didn't stop the jeers from sounding. He almost shrank back once more, but forced himself into the room, where he was confronted by Cormac McLaggen, a bullying seventh year.

"What the hell do you think that was?" He asked aggressively.

Harry had stood up before he'd realised it.

"Leave him alone." He said angrily. "So he had a bad game. So what? I don't remember you guys having a go at me after I got myself and the twins banned from Quidditch."

Everyone turned to look at him. Everyone except the Seventh Year.

"You were pathetic." Cormac continued. "I've never seen a Beater actually start helping their opponents before."

"Well you didn't even get into the team as a reserve, McLaggen, so imagine how bad you'd be." Harry retorted.

"You got a problem with me Potter?" He asked lazily, turning.

Harry slipped his wand out of his pocket. "Depends if you want to start something against another Gryffindor." He replied coolly.

McLaggen took a long look at him, and then obviously remembering Harry's prowess at duelling, backed down. He moved out of Dean's way.

Dean went up to the dormitories, without other incident.

"Is there anyone you won't stick up for Harry?" Seamus said in amusement, as the door closed, and Dean was out of earshot. There was a ripple of laughter.

Harry turned. Hermione was looking at him with an exasperated expression. "I know you meant well Harry, but I'm not sure that was the best thing to do." She told him quietly.

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded.

She looked caught in two minds for a moment, and before she could reply, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned; it was Seamus.

"Thanks mate." He said quietly, and moved on with a nod.

"At least someone appreciates me." Harry muttered.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sighed.

She hesitated again, and then almost reluctantly cast her secrecy charm.

"Isn't it obvious? He's jealous of you, and sees you as a rival he can't beat."

Harry's face darkened, as it always did at the suggestion people might be jealous of him.

"Harry," Hermione started firmly, "you've been through a lot, more than most people realise, but they still know all about you. The things that have happened to you, and the things you've done are headline news. And the thing is…" She sighed. "You're a hero, Harry."

"Yeah, well they don't know the half of it." Harry said angrily.

"No, they don't." Hermione agreed soothingly. "But look at it from Dean's perspective. He's been through a lot too. He's never known his real father, he lives with his stepfather; Voldemort tortured his family-"

"Yes, I know Hermione, I saw it, remember. It isn't the kind of thing you forget." Harry cut in.

"I _know_ Harry." Hermione stressed anxiously. "But don't you see? He's had these things happen, and he sees everyone dying in the papers, and he can't do anything about it. He feels useless. And then he compares himself to you, and he feels worse. And it doesn't help matters that the whole school knows his girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend now – had a huge crush on you."

"Has." Ron corrected helpfully.

Hermione gave him a withering glare.

"Which, as Ron has so nicely illustrated, means he has been feeling insecure in his relationship with Ginny for a long time, because he thought Ginny would rather be with you than him."

"And that means I shouldn't have stuck up for him because…?" Harry led irritably.

"Harry, an hour or two ago you pushed Dean in the chest to keep him away from Ginny." Hermione sighed.

"Well, yeah, but… He nearly… I mean Ginny…" He trailed off; all three of them knew that if it weren't for the overheard conversation he might have reacted differently when Dean walked through the door.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

_The wall of Death Eaters seemed to circle in even closer, as if they were attracted to the waves of agony extending from the woman and her children. The mother could no longer even reach for her daughter, as she was forced to watch her endure the Cruciatus curse. Another Death Eater decided that she should taste the treatment of her child. The two of them writhed and jerked this way and that on the floor, the third, the youngest child, lay motionless, unaware of the continuing suffering. The fourth was unconscious thanks to his head wound._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Harry watched from his raised dais, a cruel, mocking smile etched indelibly on his face as he watched the torture in front of him; the mother's head was rising, falling, hitting the floor with involuntary power, spattered by her own blood. He would enjoy the pleasure of power later. For now his followers could have their fun._

"_Patience." He hissed to the snake beside him, as it curled, and its tongue flickered._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_The teenage girl had been placed in a full body bind, but the strength of the Cruciatus curse was enough to force her limbs this way and that regardless. Her head was gently knocking against the floor, her body being pulled by two forces working in opposition to each other. The Death Eaters had begun making bets as to whose Cruciatus curse would successfully break the bind._

_Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Harry sat up noiselessly. He had long since perfected the art of waking silently from nightmares. He had had enough practice. The trick was in the way you settled yourself down to sleep in the first place, he had discovered. It had been a long time since he had dreamed of Dean's family.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Harry vaguely realised that he was awake, and so the tapping sound he could hear couldn't be coming from his nightmare. He slipped out of bed, picking up his wand fluidly as he did so, and shivering at the unexpected cold. He crossed to the window nearest his four poster bed; on the other side of the pane, tapping furiously with her beak, was Hedwig.

Slow and ungainly, she flew through the window that Harry hurriedly opened. There was something strangely awkward about her, and the way she was moving, as if she were a puppet on strings. Harry reached out for the owl, but she shied away, before almost reluctantly holding out her leg. Harry quickly removed the letter – barely more than a slip of paper.

As the message left her leg, Hedwig collapsed in a bundle of feathers. Harry could only make the most apologetic attempt to catch her before she fell to the floor with a thump. He bent, and scooped her up, the message held between his fingers, and carried Hedwig to his bedside.

He stroked her feathers lightly, and scratched her behind the head, but got no response. He even ruffled her feathers up the wrong way – a gesture that would normally have earned him a sharp nip – but there was still no reaction. Her tiny breast moved slowly in and out, but that was the only sign that she showed of life. Harry pointed his wand at the tiny body in front of him.

"Enervate." He whispered.

Hedwig's wide eyes snapped open, and then, with a loud screech, she found her feet and launched herself upwards, hitting the ceiling. Sleepy yells of alarm sounded from the other beds in the room – or rather, three of them – Ron continued to snore. A second screech, right above Ron's bed caused him to wake up with a jerk and an incoherent mumble.

"Jesus!" Seamus cried. "What in Merlin's name was that?"

A bolt of snowy white light shot out of the still open window, and Harry ran back to it, watching his owl fly away into the night in concern.

"Hedwig." He murmured anxiously.

"Was that your bloody owl, Potter?" Dean asked, annoyed.

A loud girl's scream rang out shrilly.

No-one moved for a split-second, and then Dean, Seamus, and Ron all scrambled out of bed, jumping to their feet. Neville attempted to do likewise, but unfortunately got tangled up in his hangings. Seamus, who slept closest to the door, took a few steps towards it, and pulled it open, allowing ever increasing sounds to permeate the room from outside. He reached back towards his bed, grabbed his wand, and started out the door.

"Come on." Seamus said urgently as he left.

Harry forced himself to look away from the vanishing dot that was Hedwig, and turned back into the room. Dean had disappeared, following Seamus; and Neville, who had just successfully extricated himself from his bed, was in the process of leaving too.

"What the hell just happened?" Ron asked groggily, swaying as he tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

Harry had no answer to give, instead he raised his hand to brush back his fringe, and remembered the piece of paper. He unfolded it. The type written note was short and to the point.

_Hogsmeade test. Ministry danger._

"Harry?" Ron prompted.

"Get dressed." Harry told him, reaching for his own clothes.

"Why?"

"Just do it. And hurry." Harry told him.

He hesitated as he grabbed his robes, and instead pulled out the greyish-purple coloured vest in his trunk, and pulled it on over his pyjamas. Charlie was right; Graphorn hide was heavy. He quickly pulled on his robes and shoes, and forewent his hat; Ron did likewise.

Professor Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the common room as they descended the stairs.

"All students must stay in their dormitories until told otherwise by a member of staff. I expect the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl to enforce this, along with any other student wishing to help. Do not be alarmed, these are merely precautions. The teachers and I shall be patrolling the grounds."

"What's going on?" Ron muttered.

Harry however, saw the crowd of people milling around the window, and Hermione looking agitated, and guarding the Portrait Hole.

"Voldemort's attacking Hogsmeade again. The Dark Mark's gone up over the town." He told Ron.

Ron looked more taken aback than alarmed. "How do you know?" He demanded.

Ginny stepped out of the girls' staircase at the same time that Harry and Ron left the boys' one. Harry nodded to her and then Hermione, and set across the room, ignoring the students who were milling around the room. Ginny and Ron followed. Hermione saw them, and took out her wand. Harry marvelled at the way they all seemed to know what was going to happen – with the possible exception of the still half asleep Ron. To be fair, he had just taken a lot of potions.

"You're not planning on going out there." Hermione hissed, as soon as she had performed the secrecy charm. "Not after Professor Dumbledore has just forbidden us?"

"Of course he is." Ginny said flatly. "So we are going with him." Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny prevented him speaking. "We're going with you Harry, or perhaps you've forgotten we promised not to let you do anything dangerous without us."

"Why do you think I told Ron to get dressed before we came down?" Harry said. "We don't have any time to waste arguing, I just got another note; we _have _to see Dumbledore."

"And how are we going to do that?" Hermione asked tartly. "Ron and I have to stop people leaving remember?"

"First of all you and Ginny are going to get dressed." Harry said. "If we end up fighting, you'll need to be able to move easily."

"Already done." Ginny said quickly.

"And then you and Ron, Hermione, are going to tell the other Prefects that you have to tell Dumbledore something important about the attack, and when you two open the door, Ginny and I slip out with you under the Invisibility Cloak."

Hermione still looked a little uncertain, and then she nodded. "But how are you two going to get under the cloak without anyone noticing?"

Harry grinned, and withdrew the cloak from his robe's pocket. "I have the greatest faith in your charms Hermione."

"I haven't tested it with something as big as people _disappearing_…" Hermione moaned, as Harry and Ginny slipped under the cloak.

"Get changed and we'll go, Hermione." Harry hissed from thin air.

"Are you sure this'll work?" Ron whispered out of the side of his mouth as Hermione disappeared.

"Of course," Harry replied confidently, "Hermione's a stickler for the rules, so no one will think twice if she says something is urgent enough for you two to find Dumbledore."

He could sense Ginny grin under the cloak – her breath tickled his neck.

To Harry's slight surprise, it really was as easy as he made it sound. He slipped the Cloak off them as the Portrait Hole closed, and they turned a corner.

"Now where?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. "Dumbledore's office I guess."

Hermione looked at him rather dubiously. "Do you really think he'll be there?"

"Have you any better ideas?" Harry asked, a little irritably – he wanted to do something, not stand around talking.

"You could always check the Marauders' Map." Hermione said patiently.

Harry blushed, Ginny giggled, and Ron snorted.

"Outside." Harry said gruffly a moment later, trying to conceal his embarrassment. "All the teachers are meeting outside it looks like – just in front of the main entrance."

"So what exactly are we going to do, Harry?" Hermione asked as they walked down the hall, and turned into a short cut behind a tapestry.

"We give Dumbledore the note." Harry told her.

"And then we help fight the Death Eaters." Ginny added firmly.

Harry looked at her and grinned. "That's what I was thinking, and seeing as you lot insisted on coming too, I guess that's what you were thinking too."

"Harry, I'm not sure if-" Hermione began, and then let out a sound of surprise as she walked straight into, or rather, through, Nearly-Headless Nick as she rounded the corner.

Hermione stopped, and Nick jerked backwards in shock, causing her to flinch from the cold a second time, and hastily take a step away.

"Hullo." Nick said, sounding momentarily preoccupied. "Hullo." He recognised the four of them and the preoccupation disappeared; he blinked in surprise. "What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in the Tower?"

"We have to tell Dumbledore something." Harry told him.

"Something important." Ron added.

Nick sighed. "I might have expected to see at least one of you out tonight. You always seem to be out of bounds when Hogwarts is in danger. Professor Dumbledore is outside the front door."

He turned to resume walking, or gliding, or however it was ghosts moved, and then sighed heavily. "Make sure you look after yourselves – our numbers have been growing too quickly recently. Too quickly."

He sighed again, and shook his head, causing it to wobble violently as it threatened to break free of the confines of his ruff.

"We will Nick, thanks." Ginny said.

All four of them were acutely aware of the fact that Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington had made no effort to rebuke them for being out of bounds. Harry felt that that fact on its own was enough to tell them they were doing the right thing.

"What are you doing Nick?" Ron asked, before he could disappear.

"Me?" Nick asked. "I'm going to call a ghosts' council to see what should be done about those Death Eaters outside."

He floated away.

"What exactly are ghosts going to do about Death Eaters?" Ginny asked.

"Maybe set Peeves on them?" Ron suggested.

"Come on." Harry told them, tight-lipped.

The shapes of the Headmaster and teachers were visible in the moonlight even before they exited the open front door of Hogwarts. Blue shimmers of light occasionally lit the sky behind them, meaning that they seemed mere silhouettes.

Snape was the first to see them approach, and, unsurprisingly, his eyes narrowed, and mouth thinned. He said something sharply to Dumbledore, who swung around. Harry tried to read the Headmaster's expression, but those piercing eyes were hidden too deeply in the night.

Professor McGonagall, however, was easier to read. She marched towards them furiously, fixing them with a withering glare. Harry braced himself for the ensuing confrontation, but to his surprise, Hermione took a couple of steps forward so that she would be the person at the front of the group, and the most natural person to speak to.

The movement seemed to take Professor McGonagall by surprise, for she slowed, and wary curiosity started to replace the anger in her eyes.

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore." Hermione said without preamble, and then lowered her voice. "Harry got another note."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed reflexively. "Did he?" She fixed Harry with an intent gaze. "And when and where did you find this one?"

"Just before the announcement to stay in the dormitories. Hedwig delivered her, but something wasn't right about her."

McGonagall turned to look behind. "Albus." She said, the tone of her voice conveying a number of feelings: concern and urgency just a couple of them.

"I suppose it is pointless asking why the rest of the Gryffindor Prefects just allowed the four of you to stroll out of the Tower, Miss Granger?" McGonagall said without expecting an answer.

"Minerva." Dumbledore said courteously as he approached, Snape by his side, uninvited.

"It appears Mr Potter has just now received another note. It was delivered by his owl."

"And where is the bird now?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know." Harry said, speaking to Dumbledore. "There was something wrong about the way she moved, and then when I took the letter she just collapsed. I woke her up with the enervate charm, and she went crazy and flew out the window."

"Possessed." Snape summarised crisply. "If you had contained the bird, Potter, we might have been able to see who had sent the note."

"Severus." Albus Dumbledore said calmly, and Snape stopped talking. He turned back towards Harry and the others. "And naturally the delivery of the note required all four of you." He said, and Harry thought he saw an amused twinkle in his eye.

"We want to help." Ginny said suddenly.

"Yes." Dumbledore said softly. "Yes, I imagined that would be the case."

"Absolutely not, Albus." McGonagall said suddenly, sounding rather fierce. "Now that they have delivered the note, they-"

"Minerva." Dumbledore said clearly, silencing her as he had Snape, although he required the additional raising of his hand to quell the Gryffindor Head.

"Albus, you cannot be considering this." Snape growled. "Children would be liabilities in the field."

"We're not children." Ron interrupted angrily. "And we've fought Death Eaters before, we know what we're getting into."

Hermione gave Ron a glare which said as clear as day to hold his temper.

"I shall not rule out any possibilities until I am in possession of all the facts." Dumbledore said clearly. "If I could see the note, please, Harry?"

Harry handed it to him wordlessly.

The sound of hooves suddenly split the cold night air. The shape of a centaur was cantering towards them along the road leading up to the castle doors. He made straight for them, and Harry recognised him as he approached.

"Firenze." Dumbledore greeted. "Is it as we thought?"

"It is." Firenze said, slowing to a halt beside them, not sounding in the least out of breath. "Men are sparsely hidden outside the grounds, keeping the spell in place, but nowhere does there seem to be enough to withstand even a minor attack."

"But why would they bother with such a spell?" McGonagall asked. "They surely cannot imagine themselves strong enough to confront the magic around Hogwarts."

"The spell is not to keep us in," Dumbledore said quietly, "but rather to notify Tom when I leave. Firenze," He said, turning back to the centaur, "are the rest of your herd still refusing to help?"

Firenze made a noise which sounded like a disgusted snort. "They do not believe the affairs of men to be any of their concern. You can not expect any help from the forest. Even the other creatures that otherwise may have been willing to help, such as the Hippogriffs, or even Hagrid's Acramantulae, are unlikely to rend assistance. Ever since Hagrid brought the giant, he has lost the centaurs' trust, and the forest listens to them."

Dumbledore sighed. "I fear Tom will not make the same distinction they do between those of us living in the castle, and in the forest. I am afraid I must ask you to try to persuade them otherwise my friend, for their help may be sorely needed."

Firenze nodded. "If I persuade the Unicorns of the danger they are in, then we may gain some help, for their influence is as strong as the Centaurs'. Finding them will be the problem, however."

"Thank you Firenze." Dumbledore said quietly. "Now, I pray you will excuse Minerva, Severus, and I for a moment, we have things we must decide before Hagrid returns."

The three of them retreated silently, and conversed in the shadows in noiseless voices.

"Harry Potter." Firenze said, turning to him solemnly.

Harry nodded, for some reason unable to speak.

"You must be wary tonight, for Mars is not the only planet that is bright. Uranus is moving through the twelfth house."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, before Firenze could turn away.

Firenze regarded him softly. "Change and battle is in the air, Harry Potter." He wheeled, and set off towards the wood at a canter.

"So what does that mean?" Harry said, turning to his friends.

"A bit vague, isn't it?" Ron asked rhetorically.

"I told you Divination was a woolly subject ages back." Hermione said in a voice that suggested everyone else had only just cottoned on to something she had known for years.

Harry smirked. He couldn't help himself; he was remembering his first Divination lesson.

"What are you laughing about?" Ron asked hotly.

"Oh, nothing."

Harry grinned again, glad for the meagre cover of darkness.

Ron glared at him, and then turned to the two girls. "Do you reckon he's going to let us help?"

Hermione shook her head, as Ginny answered. "Well, he didn't send us back to the castle, that's a good start."

"I can't imagine he'll let us go." Hermione said in a tense voice. "It's like Professor Snape said, we don't have the practice at fighting Death Eaters."

"Do you want to help or not?" Harry snapped. "You don't have to be here, you can always go back to the Tower."

"Don't be silly." Hermione said nervously. "Of course I'm going if you are. It's just… Don't you see how dangerous this is?"

"That's why we're going." Ginny said impatiently. "We have to help. Fred and George were staying in Hogsmeade tonight, remember?"

Hermione wrung her hands, and looked around at the staff, who, apart from Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, were talking in low whispers, and glancing their way every now and then. All of them reflexively moved back into darkness.

"I know, it's just…"

"What Hermione means," Ron interrupted, "is that we've got to look out for each other, and be really careful, okay? 'Cos one mistake…" He trailed off.

Hermione swallowed. "And no stupid heroics." She added, looking at Harry.

"I'll try not to." Harry said, in a slightly affronted tone.

"Oh Harry, you know what I mea-" Hermione's anxious voice was quietened by a rhythmic thumping sound, which got louder and louder.

The four of them turned reflexively towards the Forbidden Forest, as did most of the teachers. There, being led by Hagrid, was a dark figure that made him look like a child.

"Grawp." Ron said, as if scared to raise his voice above a whisper.

"That's a giant?" Ginny asked, taking in the grotesque features in horror.

"The big, friendly, giant." Hermione said with a touch of dark irony in her voice.

Harry caught the Muggle reference, but he doubted either of the Weasleys would have, even with their father's influence. It soothed him slightly, for Hermione's nerves had obviously not completely taken away her composure.

"Stay 'ere." Hagrid's voice said, in what sounded like a stage whisper, while the two figures were still some distance away.

As he approached, he caught sight of Harry and the others, and stopped. His face darkened, and he glared at them, until Professor Dumbledore's voice called him softly.

"Ah, there you are Hagrid. Is Grawp willing to help us?"

Hagrid tore his disapproving eyes away from them, and started walking towards Dumbledore again.

"Ah, yeah. Yeah, 'e is." He said, glancing back towards his half-brother and gave what was halfway between a grimace and a forced smile. "Well, I think 'e wanted the exercise as much as anythin'. I think I'd bette' stay close, like. 'E might'n understan' other people as well's me."

Harry and his friends shared glances.

"Do you think there's a single person who does want us to be around?" Ron whispered, as Hagrid got close enough to Dumbledore to talk in low tones.

"Aravenne doesn't look like he minds." Harry whispered, looking towards the edge of the group of teachers, where Professor Aravenne was standing alone, wand out, held casually in his left hand, and almost blending into the night, black hair and robes somehow shadowing his sculpted features.

"I'm not sure anyone can tell what he thinks." Hermione said.

"You are sure he's alright mate?" Ron asked, some of Hermione's nerves creeping into his voice.

"You're the one who kept telling me to trust him." Harry hissed, beginning to tense now himself, from the waiting. "I've been in the same room as him alone loads of times, and he hasn't tried to kill me yet."

"And he's been teaching Harry wandless magic. Why would he do that if he was working with You-Know-Who?" Ginny asked.

"Because then he'd be a crazy maniac like the fake Moody?" Ron muttered.

He wasn't answered. The other three of them had seen Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape begin to walk towards them. Ron turned, and joined them in scrutinising Dumbledore's face in an effort to discover whether they were allowed to go or not. The headmaster fixed Harry with his piercing stare, and spoke seriously as he joined them.

"You remember our conversation last Halloween, Harry?"

Harry pulled himself up a little straighter, as if he would look more responsible if he was an inch taller. He nodded. Dumbledore paused, searching his eyes, and then turned, first to look at Ron, and then the two girls.

"I must ask all of you to promise to follow my instructions to the letter, no matter what. If I tell you to retreat, then you must do so, no matter what is happening, or who is in trouble, is that understood?"

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall burst out in protest.

"You cannot be suggesting these children should accompany us?" Snape said in quiet incredulity.

"It is possible that Voldemort may be waiting for me to leave the castle before launching an attack on Hogwarts. If that is the case, then Harry is safest with me, and Hogwarts is in less danger with Harry elsewhere. While it is likely that the sender of the note is warning us against an attack against the Ministry, as you suggested Severus, we are not certain of the sender's intentions. It may be a trap."

"But that is still no reason for the others-" McGonagall began.

"Tom knows of their relationship." Dumbledore replied obliquely. "Regardless, it shall be of great use for us to have help from people who are aware of the Order. You must trust me Minerva, as must you Severus, when I say that I believe this is necessary."

Neither teacher looked convinced, but Dumbledore continued, as though the matter was resolved.

"Now, have I your word that you will all obey my instructions?" Dumbledore asked,

All four of them assented, Harry adding his voice to those of his friends.

"Good." Dumbledore said, before waving his wand, and plucking four pieces of material out of thin air. "Put these on." He instructed, giving one to each of them.

Harry looked at it, it was a balaclava made of what looked like white silk. He pulled it over his head, glasses and all, where it fitted as though it had been fashioned for his face in particular. He looked at Hermione, beside him. She had also pulled the garment over her head, but rather than seeing the white, faceless head he had expected, her features blurred, and blended into each other. He didn't know if he'd have been able to recognise her if he didn't know what had just happened.

Dumbledore waved his wand again, and the Hogwarts' crests that emblazoned their robes vanished, leaving them with plain black robes.

"If you walk quietly to the Greenhouses, Severus, Minerva, and I shall join you shortly."

"Just the three of you?" Ron asked in surprise.

Dumbledore studied his face. "My first priority is the safety of Hogwarts. We were not caught completely unprepared for this eventuality; we shall meet up with other members of the Order in Hogsmeade."

The four of them walked silently in the darkness, using only the light from the castle to show them the way.

"You don't think we've bitten off more than we can chew do you?" Ron eventually asked nervously.

"No." Ginny and Harry replied as one.

Ron sighed nervously. "I just thought there'd be more than two teachers coming with us and Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's worth fifty teachers." Harry told him definitively.

"Why is it taking so long?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged; Hermione had the answer. "The blue light that keeps flashing in the sky is a charm to stop portkeys and flooing."

Her voice sounded more confident as she was able to show off her knowledge, as if just being able to show her worth made her feel happier.

"So everyone has to walk everywhere." Ron summed up.

"We'd better wait here." Harry said tersely as they reached the Herbology buildings.

No-one said anything as they waited, although Harry caught Hermione shaking her head, and muttering something which sounded suspiciously like: "this is insane', under her breath. It was not long at all before three figures appeared from the direction they had taken.

"Good." Dumbledore said. "Follow me."

He swept past them without halting, and they fell in behind the two Heads of Houses. He led them along a path – if it could be called that – which seemed to be rarely used, for they found themselves having to avoid whipping branches which threatened to buffet them as they sprang back from the previous passer-by.

"At present," Dumbledore began, speaking clearly from the lead, "the Order is divided into two groups: those fighting the Death Eaters, and those trying to lead the inhabitants of Hogsmeade to safety. Fred and George Weasley assure me they know a place where they can be hidden safely, without risking journeying through the village. The four of you will join the Order members there, helping to keep the hiding place secret, and, if needs be, keeping it safe from Voldemort's followers."

He was setting such a pace, that only Ron and Harry could assent. Hermione and Ginny were having to half jog to keep up with them. Snape and McGonagall both stayed silent, with the air of people that had been overruled and knew better than to continue to argue. It did not seem long before Dumbledore held up his hand silently in order to stop the people behind him. McGonagall and Snape moved to flank him, and Harry, Hermione, and the two Weasleys, crept behind them.

A shimmering blue light erupted in a sheet from the ground, fizzling upwards into the sky, and Ron nudged Harry, pointing ahead of them. Following the digit, Harry could barely make out the half-hidden form of a person, crouched, and muttering a spell, in the spell's brief illumination. Dumbledore made a circular motion with his wand, and began to fade gradually, as if the dark night was absorbing his colour. Soon Harry could no longer see him, and, in an effort to look more closely, made a slight scuffle as he moved forwards. Snape turned and glared towards him, but the figure did not seem to have heard. Still, Harry remained motionless.

The blue light once more rose from the ground, but this time a silhouette of a tall man could be seen as a large black hole. A loud crack filled the air, and the crouching person looked up, and with a start, and a slight swivel, disapparated with a second crack of noise. The blue light faded, and Dumbledore reappeared.

"Come on." Professor McGonagall whispered sharply, and she and Snape led the way forward towards the Headmaster.

The two teachers moved silently, and quickly, and the four Gryffindors attempted to emulate them. As they approached Dumbledore, he signalled for them to cross the area where the spell had been one by one. Not a sound was heard, or light was seen until Harry, who was the last, crossed. The blue light flared into being once more, and a third loud sound filled the air.

Snape scowled at him, but Dumbledore didn't say a word, or look displeased in any fashion. Instead, he turned to McGonagall.

"Minerva, you know what must be done, but do not inform Rufus about the note."

Professor McGonagall nodded, and disapparated with a soft 'pop'.

"It was inevitable that Voldemort would know once we left Hogwarts' grounds." He said philosophically. "Speed is now of the essence."

He waved his wand once, and a walking stick appeared out of thin air. Dumbledore caught it, and then offered it around.

"Everybody take hold of this." He instructed, and, after a brief second, uttered the word: 'Portus'.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Wand out, Harry struggled to keep his footing as they landed. Dumbledore and Snape had both already stepped forwards, towards the Dark Mark in the sky, ready to act if they had attracted attention. They had landed near to the path that led towards the cave Sirius had hidden in in fourth year, but, as far as they could see, there were no Death Eaters in sight. Dumbledore and Snape quickly became mere shapes in the slight moonlight, and Harry and the others automatically glanced around them, looking for people who most likely couldn't be seen even if they were there.

A silver shape shot out of Dumbledore's wand, and he beckoned the four students forward. He moved slowly, as if examining the thin air in front of him carefully before willing to move.

"Albus." Snape whispered from Dumbledore's side.

Dumbledore took another step forward, put out his hand, and then nodded. "I feel it."

"It is designed to cause pain to anyone who doesn't have this." Snape pointed to where the Dark Mark resided on his arm, and then walked through, the air shimmering like a puddle into which a pebble had been thrown.

"Wait there." Dumbledore instructed them, gesturing that they should take a few steps backwards; Snape moved forwards until he was directly facing Dumbledore, measuring the depth of the charm.

Harry glanced around, seeing shapes in the dark which weren't there. He stopped at one point, for he was sure he had seen a dark shape which resembled a man. He not only double-checked, but triple-checked the field behind them, but there was no sign that anyone had ever been there. He glanced at his friends, and was struck once more at how effective the _balaclavas_ – for want of a better word – were. If it weren't for their respective heights, it might have been difficult to tell them apart.

"Quickly," Dumbledore's voice commanded, "pass through one at a time to my right."

Harry didn't hesitate, but slid through silently. Unlike when Snape had passed through, there was no reaction from the spell as he moved past the headmaster and teacher.

"How did the rest of the Order get through the ward?" Hermione whispered, as Dumbledore followed her through the gap in the spell, and it collapsed behind them as he and Snape ended their spell.

"They didn't." Dumbledore said simply. "They were already here. Now, follow me, and keep your wands ready. Severus, if you would take the rear?"

Snape grunted an assent, obviously still annoyed about Harry and the others' presence.

A brightly silver shape approached from the shadows of houses in front of them, and Harry tensed, but Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder reassured him. The shape of a scurrying squirrel appeared, and Harry recognised it as George's Patronus. It leapt over a fence, and jumped up onto Dumbledore's shoulder, where it half-faded into his body, half chattered in his ear. Dumbledore's face narrowed in concentration, and as the squirrel turned to sprint away, he started walking again, not as quickly as when they had been in Hogwarts, but at a pace that enabled Harry and the others to keep up and stay alert for enemies at the same time.

The sounds of explosions, cracklings of flames, and screams of pain, began to float across the night sky, and Harry gripped his wand more tightly. He glanced behind to see the pale face of Ron looking around nervously, and Ginny shiver violently.

Their first confrontation with Death Eaters started, and ended, quite unexpectedly. A child's shriek sounded from behind a wall of flames in front of them, and a woman's cruel laughter rang through the air. Dumbledore made a motion with his wand, and the fire in front started to splutter, as a strong wind began to quench it. The small back garden revealed was mere ashes, and the rear entrance to the house had been utterly destroyed. The flames had caught hold of the house itself, in spite of the wards that protected it, and belching black smoke was billowing out of the windows.

"Harry, Miss Granger, come with me." Dumbledore instructed, leading the two of them inside.

The purpose of the room they entered could only be guessed at, for now it was an empty charcoal shell, one of the walls of which had half crumbled, revealing a relatively large room in which a woman was lying motionless, a Death Eater was standing, and a child was being levitated tantalisingly close to the flames around it. Dumbledore's demeanour had changed; there was a cold, hardness to it now. The Death Eater looked up as they entered, and immediately let her levitation spell end.

"Avada-" She began, but a movement of Dumbledore's wand robbed her of her voice.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled automatically.

"Congelipse!" Harry heard Hermione's voice cry at the same time.

The Death Eater grabbed inside her robes and vanished before Harry's spell could reach her. A slight movement of Dumbledore's wand released the woman from the full body bind, and he strode towards the child – for now protected by Hermione's charm – reaching into the flames as if they weren't there in order to pluck her out of certain doom.

"That was quick thinking." He said approvingly to Hermione, as he set the child – barely older than five – down.

It wasn't lost on either of them that he hadn't mentioned her name.

"Dumbledore!" The woman explained in a tone of pure awe and gratitude.

Dumbledore gave a slight bow. "If you come with us, we shall take you and your child to a place where you will be safe."

The woman nodded, suddenly mute, and bent down to take her daughter in her arms.

"The Death Eater?" Snape asked, as they rejoined them behind the house.

"Disapparated." Dumbledore replied curtly.

"Why can't we apparate or disapparate, if they can?" Ron asked.

"Oh we can," Snape replied, eyes glittering in the light from the flames, "but without the Dark Mark, you would need abnormal concentration in order to appear at your destination, even splinched, through the pain, or to keep hold of a Portkey."

Ginny shivered again, and Harry cast a worried glance towards her.

"Alright?" He muttered.

"I just feel so cold." She replied, teeth almost chattering.

Dumbledore and Snape both gave Ginny a searching look.

"I feel cold too." Ron agreed. "But I don't know why, what with the fire."

"Have you seen any Dementors?" Snape suddenly asked the woman urgently.

The woman just stood stock still, her frightened eyes flickering from one face to another. "Dementors?" She asked finally, terror in her voice.

"Stay close." Dumbledore said, leading them around the side of the burning house.

The woman remained stationary, rooted to the ground with fear. She looked in the direction Harry and the others had come from.

"I can take Ellen out that way." She said in a tremulous voice.

"That way is not safe." Dumbledore said firmly. "You must come with us, quickly now. Do not allow your Patronuses to stray too far away from you." He told them at large, by implication warning them that Dementors were indeed likely to be near.

They followed him around the house, onto the street, and immediately saw more Death Eaters. One of a pair was holding a man under the Cruciatus curse, and his limp body was being thrown this way and that.

"Dumbledore!" His companion shouted as soon as they came into sight. He cast a hex wildly in their direction, and Harry deflected it with a shield.

"Pulmelido!" The first Death Eater said, loudly enough for them to hear every crisp syllable.

The air around the Death Eater seemed to contract around him, holding him motionless, but the curse had already left his wand. It hit the limp body of the man full on, and the Death Eater Dumbledore had disabled watched his victim retch for breath that couldn't come.

The second Death Eater dodged the curses Ginny and Hermione had sent his way, and then disappeared as he clutched inside his robes.

"Expecto Patronum!" Ron said from behind Harry, and he turned around.

Ron and Snape were both looking in the other direction to the Death Eaters, and Ron's great big dog Patronus was bounding forward. The two Dementors which had been gliding towards them veered away towards a fire which seemed to disappear at their approach, and allow them to pass. Obviously remembering Dumbledore's instructions, Ron called his Patronus back towards him.

Snape sent a curse towards the fleeing shapes, but it dissipated harmlessly against a tree. The Potions teacher turned towards the woman and her child, who were huddled against the wall, unwilling to come out.

"Quickly." Snape said sharply, causing her to flinch. "Stay in the middle where it is safer. You can shield yourself or dodge." He added, as she looked even more terrified at the thought of casting spells against Death Eaters.

Despite her fear, she crept out from her hiding place, clutching her daughter to her. Ellen looked too frightened to even make a noise, despite the pain she must have been enduring from her burns.

Harry followed Dumbledore forward as he approached the immobilised Death Eater and body, mimicking the Headmaster in keeping a watch for other Death Eaters or Dementors. Dumbledore knelt by the fallen man, and gave his body a cursory glance, before confirming softly what they already thought.

"Dead." He turned towards the Death Eater, and with a flick of his wand, unmasked him. "Rupert." He said sadly, shaking his head.

With practiced economy, Dumbledore stunned him, and, placed a button – obviously a pre-made Portkey – on top of him. The Death Eater vanished.

Dumbledore turned to the five of them, plus two refugees. He divided the four students in two with his hand, and, gesturing to Harry and Ginny, motioned that they should fade into the shadows around the seemingly abandoned house the Death Eaters and man had come from, while he checked inside. Snape led the other two across the street, where he did the same. The woman and her child followed Harry and Ginny.

"Who _are _you?" The woman asked in a whisper as Dumbledore entered the building.

"People who don't want to see V- the Death Eaters win." Harry said, hoping his slip, and near mentioning of Voldemort's name would be unnoticed.

"Albus wants our identities to be kept secret." Ginny said, pointing to her jumbled features, as the woman turned her way.

"_Albus_?" Harry mouthed from behind the woman's back.

He imagined, rather than saw Ginny's mock-angelic grin – the balaclava prohibited that. His own rolled eyes, and rueful shake of the head were most likely disguised as well, so he turned, keeping a weather eye out for trouble. A group of four Death Eaters came into view, laughing in such a way, that Harry could only wonder what the Order members that were supposedly there were doing.

Two of their wands were pointed upwards, and to Harry's horror, there was a child dangling high in the air, well above the chimneys of the houses that had remained undamaged. The woman between Harry and Ginny screamed, and suddenly the Death Eaters mocking attention was directed towards the end of the street, in which, to them, only a dead body lay.

"Inside." Ginny hissed to the woman, and gave her a half shove after Professor Dumbledore.

"Tarantallegra. Stupefy." Harry said quickly from the shadows.

The first jinx caught his target unawares, and as the legs began to dance in an uncontrollable fashion, the stunning spell was powerful enough to force him or her to fly backwards. Hermione and Ron cast their own curses from the shadows, as Ginny continued to push the woman to safety.

By this time however, the three remaining Death Eaters had cast defensive shields, deflecting the curses away. The boy hanging in the sky plummeted, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. A mixture of anger and nausea filled Harry.

"Falxiardor!" He cried, pointing at the nearest Death Eater, still a good twenty yards away.

The spell cut through the Death Eater's shield, who had obviously been expecting a less aggressive curse. He raised the hand in which his wand was held in a futile gesture of warding, and the spell cut into the hand, splitting the wand itself in two, and sending the masked man to the ground in burning agony. His scream sounded through the air, eerily similar to the ones Harry had heard from the Death Eaters' victims. Suddenly the screams were cut off, and the man lay stationary, his body continuing to burn. One of his companions had finished the job.

Harry felt, rather than saw, Dumbledore's presence beside him, and suddenly the fighting stopped. The two remaining Death Eaters had vanished. Without thinking, he ran forward towards the child's motionless body.

"Harry!" Ron cried from across the road. "Wait!"

Across the road, Snape cuffed Ron around the head, and said something quietly, yet sharply as Ron turned to confront him. Before Harry knew it, Dumbledore was beside him again.

"You have already discovered the benefit of being in shadows." He said quietly. "Allow me to go first."

Harry glanced behind, to see where Ginny was, before following him. Ginny, for her part, had obviously become tired of forcibly moving the frightened woman and her child wherever they needed to be, and had sent them across the road to the others, before lightly catching up to Harry.

"Albus?" Harry said again.

"Well, we're trying to pretend we're not students, right?" Ginny answered.

Harry followed after Dumbledore, his raised eyebrows unseen. _Albus_ Dumbledore knelt by the body of the fallen child, and made more than one complicated motion with his wand.

"He lives." Dumbledore said quietly. "Barely. We need Poppy's ability here rather than mine I am afraid. I shall cast spells to keep his body in a stasis, but we need a Healer's aptitude. Harry," he continued, removing another button from his pocket, "place this upon the stunned Death Eater's chest."

Harry took it from him, avoiding the charred body of the other Death Eater as much as possible, although the smell of burnt flesh and hair invaded his nostrils. He placed it on the chest of Voldemort's follower – a woman – and with a word from Dumbledore, the body disappeared. He raised his head, as he thought he caught sight of a shape in the distance, but there was nothing there. It did however serve as a reminder that he had to be on the lookout for enemies.

"One of you must carry him." Dumbledore said eventually. "There is nothing more we can do for him here, and he must be taken to safety. It is not far from here."

"I'll take him." Ginny said immediately, reaching out for the body, which Dumbledore carefully placed in her arms.

"Do you have your Invisibility Cloak Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

He nodded.

"Give it to Miss Weasley, for she will be a target holding a child, and unable to defend herself."

Harry reached into his robes, and carefully draped Ginny with it. As she disappeared from view, her disembodied voice sounded in question.

"Where are we going?"

"The Three Broomsticks." Dumbledore said in answer, turning back to where the others were still sheltered twenty yards away.

His Patronus shot out of his wand, and flew towards Snape, and he turned, to lead Harry and Ginny between two houses, without seeing if it reached him or not. Harry hurried after him, and an additional sound of footsteps was the only thing that suggested Ginny was with them. They moved through alleyways and abandoned streets in a zigzag pattern. Despite the fact they seemed to be approaching a large confrontation, they met no-one, enemy or otherwise, as they walked carefully onwards.

They eased themselves from an alleyway adjoining a burning building, to see curses flying from one building to another and dark shapes in the street taking cover and then adding their own spells to the attack. With the sudden dawning of orientation, Harry realised that they must be outside the back entrance of Madam Rosmerta's bar. Dumbledore took a step back, causing Harry to duck out of sight as well.

"Wait here." Dumbledore said quietly. "An open, sprawling, battle is not the best place to utilise your talents, especially when you are trying to keep an innocent child safe. Miss Weasley?"

Ginny's voice sounded from the air behind them. "Yes sir?"

"Hide the child under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but make sure that you can leave at short notice. If things do not proceed in our favour, the two of you must take him, and hide in one of the abandoned houses. I shall attempt to provide you with a free passage to the inn, but if things do not go as planned then neither of you may attempt to come to my aid."

"Yes sir." Harry promised without thinking, and watched as Dumbledore moved out into the street.

Ginny shivered once more as she removed the cloak, and laid the child down gently, resting against the wall; as she shivered, a sudden wave of nausea struck Harry, and he recognised the feeling as someone attempting to perform Legilimency on him. He looked around for his assailant, until a second shiver from Ginny caused him to realise what it was.

Dementors.

They were attempting to invade his mind and leech away his happy memories. His Occlumency techniques obviously helped shield him from their effects.

"Expecto Patronum." He whispered, delving into his memories himself.

The large silvery-white form of Prongs galloped out of his wand, and cantered forward the way that Harry, Ginny, and Dumbledore had come.

"Protect us." Harry said quietly.

The stag turned, pawed at the ground, and then trotted in front of them, its large eyes looking this way and that for anything that might cause harm to Harry or Ginny. Its very presence seemed to calm Ginny, and remove Harry's nausea.

"Should I cast a Patronus too?" Ginny whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't know how easy it is to duel while conjuring a Patronus."

"I wonder how Ron and Hermione are doing." Ginny said tensely.

"Hopefully as well as us." Harry said, trying to sound positive.

Chaotic sounds broke out from the street, as yells and sounds that seemed to have nothing to do with casting spells reached their ears.

"Well, I hope we're doing well." Harry added.

To his surprise, Ginny bit back a laugh.

"What?" He asked.

"You hate the whole leadership thing, don't you?" She whispered.

"Yeah." Harry admitted, wondering if his blurred features prevented the heat in his cheeks from being seen.

The fire beside them started to die down, as if it was running out of oxygen, and for the first time they could see through the fire and smoke into the building itself. The inside of the house had been gutted by the fire, but their attention was drawn past the embers to the open front door where they could see the body of a man half in, half out of the house. The charms of the door seemed to have held the longest, for half of the body was merely scarred by the fire. The other half-

Harry looked away, and heard Ginny being sick beside him. Before he could think to move away from the window, in case they were seen from the street, his Patronus flashed in front of him. It slammed into a Dementor as it tried to round the corner towards them, and the creature let out an inhuman sound between a shriek and a growl as it flew backwards through the air. Another Dementor appeared further out in the street, and the stag moved towards it before Harry gathered his wits.

"Wait!" He shouted. "Defend us!"

His Patronus turned, and moved out of view, another shriek suggesting a collision with another Dementor. In a flash, the Patronus returned to guard them, and the Dementors fled, chased by the phoenix shape of Dumbledore's Patronus. Harry watched them glide past, avoiding the alleyway where they were hidden. The ghostly phoenix stopped as it passed their hiding place, and, flapping its wings lazily flew gracefully through the air to Harry's shoulder.

As it alighted, as clearly as though Dumbledore was standing beside him, he heard his voice. "Come, quickly."

Harry glanced behind to see if Ginny had heard – which she obviously hadn't – and by the time he had looked back, the Phoenix was gone. The fire beside them started to flame once more.

"Come on." He said urgently, stepping forward to where he had seen Ginny cover the boy with his cloak, his own Patronus disappearing.

He retrieved his cloak, and picked up the child roughly without even realising it. Ginny looked a little confused, and Harry elaborated.

"Dumbledore said to go. Come _on_."

He crouched out in a run, trusting to Dumbledore that it would be safe, holding the boy in hands which had become enveloped in the cloak, and vanished; and bent over, to give the child the scant protection his body could offer.

Hands reached forward, as though to haul him into safety, and he allowed them to pull him away from the doorway. As he looked around in the darkness, he saw a man with a wooden leg – Moody – pushing Ginny in his direction as well.

"Who's this Albus?" Moody demanded of Dumbledore who was standing outside.

"Harry, release the child to Fred Weasley's care." Dumbledore said, not answering the question directly. "Fred, this child needs a Healer's attention, but until we can obtain it, and he can be far removed from a battle zone, he should be taken to the place of safety you spoke of."

"It used to be a passage to Hogwarts, but the tunnel caved in." Fred said. "Blimey. Harry? Mum's going to have a fit."

"Mum's just going to have to deal with it." Ginny said.

Fred almost looked weak at the knees as he heard Ginny's voice. "Gin- Merlin, someone else is telling Mum."

"Go on Weasley, take the boy." Moody growled. "Once your brother manages to break the ward, we'll be able to Portkey people out and Molly can lodge an official complaint if she wants to then."

"Could do with a little help!" Tonks' voice sounded from another room.

Looking around, Harry realised that they must be in the kitchen of the Three Broomsticks. Tonks was probably in the main bar.

"Alastor, Marina, Ignacio, Tom, go." Dumbledore commanded.

Four shapes disappeared quickly, Moody's wooden leg sounding the way.

"Hestia, I want you to keep a close eye out for any sign that they are regrouping upon this side, Harry and Ginny Weasley here will aid you. Severus should be here soon with two others, and a mother and child we rescued."

She nodded.

"Two 'others'?" Fred groaned. "Mum's going to have kittens."

"Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said sternly, "if you could pass the boy to your mother's care please, and then return to assist Hestia."

Fred nodded, and with a twirl of his cloak Dumbledore left to help the others. Fred finally took the boy from Harry, and, carrying him in one arm, faced a picture on one of the bordering walls. He pushed one of the taps on the painting of the bar in the next room, and it slipped open to reveal some doors going to the cellar.

"Rosmerta's ale cellar." Fred explained. "There's another secret passage in here…"

"Go." Hestia Jones said with an explosion of breath.

She sounded nervous, and with curt words told Harry and Ginny to stand watch by two windows as the picture closed the way to the cellar once more and Harry shoved the cloak into his pocket.

"Stay in the shadows." She added unnecessarily – not that there were much in the way of shadows, all light in the room was coming from the fires outside.

Harry felt his heart rate increasing, and took a few deep breaths to keep his nerves in check. It wasn't helped by seeing the shape of a motionless body rested against a wall close by when he looked down, or the sounds of spells being cast elsewhere in the building.

The slightest change in light signified a figure moving well down the street. He hesitated, unable to see whether they were friend or foe.

"Over there." He said quietly, as two more figures came into view.

"How many?" Hestia Jones asked, without moving from her vantage point.

"Three. No – six." Harry raised his wand.

A flash of light illuminated the night briefly, and a curse flew towards one of the figures. They were wearing white masks. The figure flew backwards, and the other Death Eaters replied with hexes of their own. Explosive hexes, it sounded like.

"Someone hit them with a spell." Harry said, tensing himself up to help.

"Probably one of our groups that went looking for survivors." Hestia said. "Stay." She added, trying to sound authoritative as Harry moved towards the door.

"But we've got to help them." Harry told her.

"No. They are probably trying to keep them away from here. They know what they're doing."

"Yeah, we know what we're doing. I don't know about the Death Eaters though." Fred said from behind them.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked in a voice that was still shaking from the sight of the corpse, as he moved beside her.

"It's as if they haven't got a plan, or at least a back-up plan." Fred said. "They're moving in small groups, and wasting time torturing innocent people as much as fighting those of us who fight back. And when Dumbledore came, they disappeared with hardly a fight."

"Maybe that is their plan." Harry said suddenly, as the Death Eaters moved out of sight once more, drawn away from the Three Broomsticks.

"Hermione and Ron are coming." Ginny interrupted

"Get them to hurry Hestia." Fred said, and Harry noticed he had assumed command. "I'll warn you if anyone's coming."

He slipped out of the door, and Hestia Jones followed, making urgent gestures in the direction of the four people on foot.

Ron entered the room first, his height making the question of his identity academic. Hermione half pushed the woman inside as they followed, and, as if the girl felt it was safe enough to wail now, Ellen burst into frightened sobs.

Fred needed just a short look in order to decide what needed to be done. "Come on. We'll get you somewhere safe, and we've got people there who'll look after you."

The woman turned towards Harry, as though still in shock, and, just as Snape stepped through the door, asked: "He called you Harry… Are you… Harry Potter?"

"Come on." Fred repeated, and then half pulled her towards the cellar.

"Imbecile." Snape snarled towards Ron as the wailing started to disappear into the distance. "Let me see your ankle, Miss Granger."

Harry noticed that she was leaning against a wall. Ron, who was looking towards her anxiously, conjured a chair, which she slipped onto gratefully.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked anxiously, turning towards her.

"Keep your guard up Potter." Snape spat angrily. "You're supposed to be watching for enemies."

"I just sprained my ankle." Hermione said. "I trod on some… one, and fell in the dark."

"That should be fine." Snape said. "Stand up."

The sound of steps announced Fred's return. "Met Mum coming up. Managed to keep her away," he added, looking at the four blurry faces, "but she says Bill is still having trouble keeping an open portal in the ward, and wanted to know if Professor Dumbledore had any ideas as he's here."

"I shall inform Albus." Snape said.

"Careful in there," Hestia Jones said, "there's a group of Death Eaters attacking."

"I gathered." Snape said acerbically.

Harry saw Fred roll his eyes in Hestia's direction as Snape turned.

"What were you going to say earlier, Harry, about the Death Eaters' plan?" Fred asked.

"Oh." Harry said. "Um. It's just, you said they were acting really chaotically, right? And that they disappeared when Dumbledore came? Well what if they're just trying to keep the Order busy here, chasing them, while Voldemort does something else."

"So they leave at the first sign of trouble." Ginny said from her vantage point at the window.

Harry scanned the street in front of him, and nodded.

"And then the attacks here are meant more to stop us doing anything than to hurt us, and they're just playing hide and seek with us." Fred summed up, nodding.

"A possible hypothesis." Snape's voice said from beside the door. "The six of you remain here."

The shock of Snape actually agreeing with something Harry said was slightly nullified by the contempt he managed to somehow instil in his voice. Snape was gone before he could think of anything to say.

"Merlin, I hate that man." Hestia Jones said, voice trembling.

"Don't we all." Fred said, almost casually. "Don't worry Hestia, he's just a natural slimeball."

"I'm a Healer, not a soldier." She added.

With that, Harry realised that Dumbledore had put them in the place danger was least likely to be. He wasn't sure why he was surprised. The sounds of fighting stopped from the other room, and Hestia Jones sighed in relief. Another peek out of the window showed curses being thrown in the distance, and Harry briefly wondered whether it was the same group of Death Eaters he had seen earlier involved.

An explosion of green light shot up into the sky, separating into the emerald green pattern of the Dark Mark; the snake that was where the skull's tongue should have been was raised and ready to strike. It drifted higher and higher, joining the original one in the sky.

"Another Dark Mark!" Harry said, louder than he had intended.

"What?" Fred asked. "Where?"

He came to Harry's window, and looked out. He swore loudly.

"Hestia, tell Dumbledore or Moody – whoever's closer – that another Dark Mark has gone up near the Hog's Head."

"Why's that important?" Ron asked nervously.

"George is in there. We knew something was happening tonight, but not what, so we tried to get as many people as possible into the pubs, especially the kids. We promised special promotions of some of our products, made a real party of it. We had the passage here, and the wards at the Hog's Head are really strong. But if the Dark Mark is there…"

He trailed off.

"Weasley, where is the entrance to the passage?" Snape's voice said brusquely from behind them.

Fred turned with a scowl, and walked over to the painting once more.

Snape looked at the four of them scornfully. "Stay here." He said. "Professor Dumbledore will tell you what to do shortly."

They waited, all four of them peering out into the street anxiously.

"You two okay?" Ron asked, as he moved to the vantage point Hestia Jones had occupied.

"We're fine." Ginny said, and they lapsed into silence again.

"Mum's gonna kill you four." Fred said from behind them. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Same thing as you." Ginny retorted. "That we can help save people's lives."

"Ron shouldn't even be out of bed after that crash." Fred pointed out. "And you-"

"And I what?" Ginny challenged angrily. "I'm a girl and younger than you, is that it? Well I fought Death Eaters before you did, and I did okay, didn't I?"

"I was going to say that a few hours ago you were really upset, Gin, and this is hardly the best place for you to be, but now that you mention it-" Fred looked skywards, and sighed. "Look, let's just save it for later."

"I'm fine." Ron grunted, peering outside again, and then glancing around worriedly towards Hermione.

Hermione, who had been very quiet, spoke up irritably. "I'm fine too Ron, stop looking at me as if I'm going to disintegrate."

"Sorry." Ron muttered, looking away. "It's just, I felt ill just by looking at – the body."

"It's one of the reasons we had to come." Hermione said, sounding as if she was finding refuge in logic. "Better we see what its like when we have people like Dumbledore around to help us, then if we're on our own."

"Better you don't see it at all." Fred muttered.

"We're not just kids anymore, Fred." Ron told him.

"Where's Charlie?" Hermione asked quietly.

"In the Hog's Head." Fred said. "He and George are there, Mum and Dad are in the passage, and Bill's trying to get through their spells. Percy is the only one who isn't in this fight, now that you four are here. Damn it, why aren't we going to help the others!" He burst out.

"We will, Mr Weasley." Dumbledore said from the door. "However, before I can consider leaving here, the inn must be made as safe as possible. The charms there are still holding at the moment; I have heard from Aberforth. Unfortunately, the charms preventing apparition and Portkeys _here_ are wavering, and one of the two exits must also be sealed in order to make the building more defensible. I require silence please."

He stepped forwards towards the door, and motioned Ron away. Taking a crystal out of his pocket, he began a quiet incantation. All five of them stood back to watch, as, after a short time, Dumbledore levitated the crystal above the door, and it fused into the wall. Taking another crystal from his pocket, he repeated the process above the windows. Watching him, Harry realised just how little magic he knew, and how much there was that would never be taught to any Hogwarts student in just seven years. It drove home just how difficult his task of defeating Voldemort was.

The sounds of footsteps came from the cellar, and the painting drew back once more as two figures climbed the stairs. One of them was Snape, the other had a dark hood covering his face. They stopped as they saw Dumbledore working, and said nothing. As the final crystal fused into the wall, he turned and acknowledged them.

"Good. You have a stable window through?"

Bill's voice sounded from beneath the hood. "It's holding. I've told Dad what to look for in case it starts to break down, but I'd better stay here in case something happens. I just needed a little help from the other side, as you thought."

"Molly and Arthur Weasley have begun transporting people out." Snape said.

Dumbledore nodded, and then turned to the wall and flicked his wand. A viscous blue substance began to seep down the wall, forming a curtain. Another flick of the wall, and the blue substance began to harden and grow paler, extinguishing all light as it did so. When Dumbledore restored light by creating a bright lamp which hung from the ceiling, the wall had turned into solid rock.

"Follow me." Dumbledore said, moving towards the door which led into the pub itself.

Harry looked around. There were no tables or chairs, nor was there a bar counter, and the light was coming in the main from fires outside. All that was there was a large empty room, filled with barely a dozen people, all of whom were keeping watch for any further signs of Death Eaters. Harry recognised a few faces – Tonks, whose voice he had heard earlier was there – but he didn't know many. Remus wasn't in sight, but nor, thankfully, was he one of the motionless bodies on the floor.

Dumbledore split them into three groups, signalling Hestia Jones to join Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Bill, and taking command of one of the other two groups, leaving the rest to Snape and Moody. Tonks did not look impressed for the split-second when she discovered she was to work with Snape, but quickly covered it.

"You seven will stay here, guarding the entrance to the inn. Do not engage anyone unless absolutely necessary, and if you are in trouble, then retreat to the passageway without allowing any Death Eater to see either secret entrance. Understood?"

Harry nodded, along with the six others.

"Bill, the defensive charms need strengthening. They are unlikely to attempt to apparate inside, without knowing the current layout, but we can take nothing for granted."

Harry got the impression that a plan to aid people in the Hog's Head had long been established, because Dumbledore said nothing about their tactics, and not a single member of the Order looked like they needed to be told.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So, why the mask, Bill?" Ron asked as he peered out of the window; it hadn't taken long for Bill to strengthen the wards around the inn.

"My face isn't a very pretty sight at the moment." He said ruefully. "It's why I'm not out there with the rest."

"What happened?" Ginny asked.

"Someone set off a curse as I was in the middle of breaking it." Bill said. "Dad and I were in the way. I needed my skin re-grown all over my head, and lost all my hair." He shrugged, as if that was no big deal – and, perhaps, for a curse-breaker it wasn't. "Mum's finally got her wish – I lost my hair, and the earring doesn't go without it."

"Speaking of Mum," Fred said, "one of us ought to check if they've got rid of everyone yet. We can't exactly retreat if they haven't, even if we are outnumbered." Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked towards him, and he continued. "_Not_ one of you four, Mum would have a fit."

"She knows you're here." Bill said. "Snape told her. Still you'd better not go down, she'd do everything she could to stop you coming back."

"I'll go." Hestia Jones said. "If they are gone then we have more people to help."

Bill shook his head. "No, we need them looking after my counter-spell." He waited until Hestia left the room and lowered his voice. "Plus Dad shouldn't be here at all. He got hit worse than I did by that jinx, but we're short on manpower and he wasn't going to sit at home and do nothing."

"Then again," Fred added, "you four shouldn't be here either, but if you weren't I don't know who'd there'd be left to help us try and hold this."

"There's movement." Hermione said from the window she had been vigilantly watching through.

Bill instantly came alert. "Where?"

Hermione pointed, and Harry vaguely saw two shapes moving down the road. One must have been badly injured, for it was half limping, half being carried by its companion. As they grew closer, Harry could see their faces were covered in soot, and their ragged clothing was also black. He wasn't sure if they were men or women from the light given by the burning building across the street, but it was obvious they weren't Death Eaters.

"Merlin, straight down the middle of the road." Bill said in disbelief. "They need to get into the shadows, or they'll bring Death Eaters straight here."

Fred swore, and then, with a quickness and quietness gained from his many years of pranking, slipped out of the door, and waved frantically towards the two people, trying to tell them to get into cover.

The two refugees sped up, obviously taking Fred's gestures as instructions to hurry, rather than find safety.

"Oh sh-" Ron began, pointing in the opposite direction, before glancing at Hermione, and amending his word. "-oot. Dementors."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He followed Fred out of the door, and wordlessly cast his Patronus, in an effort to keep the Dementors from approaching the inn. The stag erupted out of the wand, and cantered forwards, before lowering its head, and charging. A large, sleek, silver, feline followed, and Harry glanced to his side to see Ginny standing beside him.

Harry thought he caught a sign of movement from close to the burning building opposite them, and yelled for one of the others to watch it. Bill began muttering quietly, and the whole area around them seemed to become darker, as if a black fog was surrounding them. Harry glanced behind him, and noticed the two refugees had stopped, the injured person had fallen. Returning his attention to the Dementors in front of him, he noticed that firelight was dimming from a building between them and their respective Patronuses. Realising what that meant, he willed his Patronus to turn around.

"They're not going to make it without our help, Fred." Ron said suddenly. "Come on."

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Hermione. "I'll take over here. Make sure Ron and Fred are alright." She continued urgently as he hesitated. "Go! You're the best at duelling – if they're followed by Death Eaters…"

Harry nodded, and turned, feeling a slight loss of orientation as his Patronus disappeared so far away from him. He crouch-walked his way past Bill, and scanned the street behind Fred and Ron, but could see nothing in the darkness. He pointed his wand straight down the street.

"_Solas._" He thought.

The spell could barely be seen as it sped through the air down the other end of the street. Finally, it hit something, and a large area fifty yards away burst into light. Death Eaters were coming their way, but paused as the area lit up around them, and put themselves into defensive positions, unsure of where the spell had originated from.

"Hurry." Harry hissed.

Bill broke off his muttering, and the dark mist around them cleared slightly. "Get everyone inside Harry, we have the wards to protect us there." He resumed his incantation.

"Hermione, G-"

"We heard, Harry." Hermione said, sounding breathless, as if she was feeling the strain of holding the charm.

Harry noticed that the Dementors had managed to gain a few yards. One of them was trying to brush Ginny's Patronus aside, which fell as though struck, but then found its feet, and attempted to charge the Dementor again. He turned back towards Ron and Fred to see a curse heading straight towards them. They reached the shroud of darkness – both Weasleys carrying the injured man, and a woman hobbling in front of them – just before the curse could hit them in the back. Before Harry could even attempt to shield them, it entered the dark haze, and disappeared, flying out from the other side of mist, straight towards the Dementors. It hit a Dementor full on, causing it to stumble, and then lit the area around them and the Patronuses.

Harry took a few running steps forward, urging the Weasleys to move more quickly, and tried to think of a curse that might delay a large group of Death Eaters. Inspiration wasn't forthcoming, and he glanced around. Catching sight of a large piece of burning debris, he concentrated, and banished it down the street, hoping it would slow them down at least.

A gasp sounded from behind them, but Harry could only spare a brief look. Ginny had fallen to the ground, and her Patronus had disappeared.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry yelled, hoping it would hit a building somewhere and provide more obstacles for the Death Eaters.

He turned and took a couple of steps towards the door, suddenly feeling the Dementors inside his head. One of them was a matter of yards away now, sweeping away Hermione's Patronus with a swipe of its hand, and reaching forward.

"Bill!" Harry yelled, distracting him from his spell.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled, seeing the motionless husks that Ginny and Hermione would become if the Dementor sucked out their souls…

Fine white mist emerged from his wand and disappeared. Harry shook his head, but the Dementor was upon Hermione now, he didn't have time to try again.

"Falxiardor!" He screamed.

The spell missed Hermione by inches, and struck the Dementor in the face. It recoiled, pushing Hermione away, rather than bringing her face closer, and she crashed into Bill. The dark cloud began to disappear. A faint flicker of light sparked on the Dementor's forehead, where the spell had hit, but the fire was put out by the creature's cold before it could even begin. Despite the large gash to its face, the Dementor glided forward once more, bending down towards Ginny this time.

"Reducto! Farcio! Quassossis!" Harry yelled in quick succession, but despite the sounds of bones cracking, the Dementor simply teetered slightly, and then returned to its descent towards Ginny.

Rage, fear, and desperation rose up in Harry, and he felt it swell up into his head, from his fingers and toes, knees, elbows and stomach, it flowed like pure power. A green lightning bolt flashed in front of his eyes, and he let out a roar.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light shot out of his wand, and struck the Dementor in the chest. A sound between a sigh and a scream sounded, and suddenly it collapsed into a pile of ragged robes and dust. Harry stumbled, and he felt a hand lift him up. It was Bill.

"I'm fine." Harry gasped. "Get them inside."

He stumbled forwards, and felt, rather than saw, a great dog bounding past him towards the Dementors that were left. He forced himself upright, and turned, remembering the Death Eaters behind them.

"Sæptus." He gasped, but the cushion of air he cast to absorb any incoming spells was weak, and he knew it.

"Come on Harry!" Fred yelled.

"Get them inside!" He yelled back, knowing they weren't yet safe by the sounds behind him.

He only had to hold on a bit longer…

A curse hit the shield in front of him, and the air visibly buckled.

"Effringo!" He yelled, spotting the light of a second curse coming towards him.

The two jets of light met in mid air, and disappeared.

"Come on Harry!" Ron yelled.

Harry glanced around. He was the only one left outside now. He took a step backwards and flew off his feet.

He had been struck by a curse into his chest, and been sent into a large piece of rubble which had fallen from a nearby building. He groaned, and tried to push himself upwards, and clear cobwebs out of his head with a shake. He could hear muffled voices from his left, but was unable to understand them. A loud mocking laugh sounded from in front of him, and Harry raised his eyes to see a burly looking man, hidden in his Death Eater uniform.

"Crucio!"

The spell hit Harry in the chest again, and he was filled with pain, although not as much as he had expected. Somehow, in his foggy, pain filled, state of mind, he realised that the thing sticking into his bottom was his wand, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his hand towards it.

The curse lifted.

"Who the hell are you?" The Death Eater asked. "Killing a Dementor like that."

He strode the couple of yards between them, and reached for the mask covering Harry's head. Harry's head fell as the silk covering left his head, and disappeared as it did so. The Death Eater looked at his empty hand in surprise, and then pulled Harry's hair to get a good look at his face.

Another voice swore, and Harry heard the crack of somebody disapparating in a panic.

"Potter." The Death Eater's voice said, with a manic sound.

Harry saw the punch coming, and managed to roll with it, barely avoiding the worst of the blow, and slumping to the ground. He was pulled up roughly.

"You killed my brother, Potter." The maniac said, a crazy glint in his eye.

He removed his mask, revealing the scarred face of Rabastan Lestrange. His face looked permanently twisted, probably from his spell in Azkaban. He punched Harry again, and he vaguely wondered where the others were, as he fell once more to the ground. Blood ran down the side of his head, and he was roughly pulled back into a sitting position.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this, Potter." He snarled, drawing his face close to Harry's, and then slamming Harry's head back against the rubble behind him.

A white shape jumped at him, but passed straight through him, and Harry saw Ron's dog Patronus trying, but failing to hurt the Death Eater. Rabastan laughed out loud.

"Keep those others trapped in there." He yelled behind him. "I want them to watch the destruction of Harry Potter. And keep those damned Dementors away too!"

Lestrange reached forwards, and grabbed Harry's head, forcing him to look towards the Three Broomsticks. Spells and fists were slamming into invisible barriers which wouldn't give way, and panicked faces were looking at him. Harry struggled, but the Death Eater forced him to take in the scene. Harry could see the images of Hermione and Ron's blurred faces screaming, but couldn't hear a word they said.

Ron's Patronus shot through Lestrange's back, and landed half in Harry. It turned and growled loudly – the first time Harry had heard a Patronus make a sound – causing Lestrange to laugh once more. He stepped back. Harry's mind started thinking again, as though Ron's Patronus had flicked a switch in his head. He still had his wand – he was sitting on it. If he could reach it, then…

"Don't die too quickly now Potter." He grinned, taking a few steps backwards. "Falxia!"

Harry felt the spell split his robes, and then felt himself pushed into the stone behind him. His fingers grasped upon his wand as he fell sideways once more.

"No, no, you're not going to die yet." Lestrange said, and with a flick of his wand, Harry felt himself being raised upwards.

The force manipulating him stopped, and he staggered as he found his feet.

"Wh- What?" Rabastan said in disbelief, looking at Harry's stomach, where the curse had hit.

"Farcio!" Harry gasped, the word inaudible through his pain, but the wand motion perfect.

As the light from his curse struck Rabastan Lestrange, it was joined by a second light from the side, which glowed green as it connected. Lestrange was sent backwards as though struck by a wrecking ball, but the expression on his face was unmistakeably that of someone who had just been hit by the killing curse. Harry staggered forwards, and took in the shocked poises of five Death Eaters. A sound came from the end of the street, and all five Death Eaters disappeared.

Harry just swayed there for a few seconds, looking at the burning building, when he felt hands grab him, and carry him away. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, Hestia Jones was standing above him, making motions with her wand.

"He just took the curse, and…" Fred's voice said in disbelief in the distance, "A cutting curse, and it didn't do anything!"

"Remind me to thank Charlie for saving my life." Harry said weakly, as Hestia removed his robes, showing the Graphorn skin vest to the world.


	27. Reports

**Chapter 27: Reports**

**Four Department Heads Dead as You-Know-Who Launches Mass Triple Strike.**

_The Heads of Magical Transportation, International Magical Co-operation, Magical Games and Sports, and the Obliviation Squad, were all found murdered last night after a devastating strike was launched with the intention of crippling the Ministry_ reports Rita Skeeter

_It is believed that as many as seven further high ranking Ministry Personnel may have been targeted, including Arthur Weasley – father of Ron, Ginny, Fred and George Weasley, well known friends of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter – and the Minister of Magic himself. Fortunately, teams of Aurors intercepted the Death Eaters before further deaths could occur._

_As this strike was taking place, an attack – presumably with the intent of distracting the Ministry law enforcement – was aimed at the village of Hogsmeade. Luckily, the owners of the well known joke shop 'Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes', the afore mentioned Mr's Fred and George Weasley, were holding public demonstrations of their products in the two local public houses, and some safety was gained from numbers._

_The Weasley brothers have long been outspoken about the measures they believe should be undertaken against You-Know-Who, and it is rumoured that more than one attempt to silence them has failed. While the question as to whether they had some prior knowledge of the attack may occur to those lucky enough not to have been in Hogsmeade last night, others will surely be grateful that their presence enabled some sort of defence to be staged before Albus Dumbledore mounted a rescue operation out of Hogwarts._

_The headmaster, along with a teacher, and four others – thought to be students that included no less a person than Harry Potter himself – entered Hogsmeade in order to aid the struggle. Information about the fight in Hogsmeade is scarce, but it is believed that a group of civilians banded together with the Weasley brothers, Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter, not only to resist the attack but also to rescue people who may have been trapped by the Death Eaters, until Ministry help could arrive._

_Eyewitness reports suggest that Harry Potter killed a Dementor by use of the forbidden Avada Kedavra curse, a feat few trained wizards have ever achieved. Further reports suggest that he duelled with the infamous Rabastan Lestrange, and that he was struck by a cutting curse to no effect. It is thought that The-Boy-Who-Lived then dispatched the Death Eater with another killing curse. However, before we debate the justifiability of using such a curse against a known Death Eater, it must be said that there is no conclusive proof to these reports._

_A similar eyewitness report suggests that a third attack was simultaneously mounted against the school of Hogwarts itself, once Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter left, but was repelled by the help of a giant and Acromantulae. The suggestion that a creature such as a giant, or the large man eating spiders, might defend students against Death Eaters is at first glance ludicrous, so the veracity of all the reports must be treated with a healthy degree of scepticism._

_The-_

Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, put down the paper, and ran his hand across his eyes and forehead. Shaking his head, he looked across the room towards Dumbledore, then the direction of Harry's hospital wing bed.

"Where to start?" He asked, shaking his head again.

"I always find the beginning the best place to commence, Rufus." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Very well." Scrimgeour said, releasing his breath sharply. "Did you know about this attack Albus? By all accounts you had men near and able to respond immediately." He demanded, holding Dumbledore's eyes. "Could you have saved them? Could you have warned us more quickly?"

Harry did not need to ask who 'them' were. His four Heads of Departments ranked higher in his mind than the innocent people who died in Hogsmeade. Harry chastised himself immediately – if Ron, Ginny, or Hermione were to die, he'd be far more concerned about them than twenty others.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The attack in Hogsmeade, I believed likely, but did not know for certain. That the Ministry might also be in danger only became evident as the night wore on. As for warning you of the Hogsmeade attack, we both know that until your security is rebuilt, there are dangers-"

"Yes." Scrimgeour sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I am painfully aware of the fact. But I think we ought to discuss this in detail later, perhaps in the privacy of your study, which I suppose is the only place we can be free from eavesdroppers." The sarcasm was barely audible, but there nonetheless. "What we have to do now, is decide what to do about you, Mr Harry Potter."

Harry looked at him but said nothing.

"The very fact that underage witches or wizards may have found themselves in such a situation worries me, that he – and others – may have either intentionally placed themselves, or _been intentionally placed,_ in such a fight worries me a great deal more." Scrimgeour looked in Dumbledore's direction, holding his gaze for a few seconds. "But, unfortunately, there is not much I can do about that, seeing as the Headmaster of Hogwarts is automatically magical guardian of Muggle raised children.

"And there is also the fact that my predecessor learnt firsthand that attempting to fight either one of Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore is an unwise proposition." He added ironically. "So, what concerns me most isn't so much the underage magic, or even the involvement of students in a rescue operation," he glanced at both of them in turn, "as the reports of Unforgivables."

Harry continued to stay silent, knowing to let Dumbledore handle the conversation. Dumbledore, likewise, continued to politely watch the Minister without speaking. After a moment's pause made it evident he wasn't going to get a reply, Scrimgeour rose from his chair, shaking his head, and began to pace.

"The very idea that an underage wizard could perform any Unforgivable – it's preposterous! But that they could perform the killing curse twice in a short space of time, killing a Dementor, despite… It's…" He shook his head again, as if he couldn't begin to describe just how much more preposterous that scenario was. "I can't believe I'm even saying this to a sixteen year old but," he shrugged, "impossible things do seem to happen when you are around."

"Rufus?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

Scrimgeour stopped walking, and turned to fix Harry's eyes with his own. He took possibly the deepest breath Harry had ever seen, and then asked the question.

"Mr Potter, did you in fact, cast the Avada Kedavra curse?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore out of the corner of his eyes. He spotted a minute nod.

"Yes." Harry nodded simply.

If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, Scrimgeour's reaction – his hesitation, his double-take, his glance at the scar on Harry's forehead (the first time Harry could remember his doing so), and his complete incredulity – might have been quite amusing. Maybe one day he would study it in a Pensieve if all went well. He shouldn't actually have anything to worry about, he didn't think, for he was sure that as Dementors didn't count as beings, using an Unforgivable on them wasn't quite so unforgivable.

"But not at a person. I did- I only used it against the Dementor, none of my other spells worked, and I was too busy thinking of what my friends would become to use a Patronus, and I was barely slowing it down. I somehow knew that that was the only spell that might defeat it." Harry shook his head. "I barely knew what was happening."

"I am well aware of that feeling lad," Rufus Scrimgeour interrupted in a forced calming tone, possibly for his own benefit as much as Harry's, "there always comes a time in combat when any and all plans you make go out of the window, and you have to improvise on the spot. It sounds like you improvised well. Only a Dementor…" He trailed off, shaking his head, and then regained his poise once more. "But the Dementor may only become the really important question once we know what happened to Lestrange."

Harry was suddenly reminded that when Rufus Scrimgeour came to the fore, he came the hard way, through Auror training, into their top jobs, one by one, until he finally was given the responsibility to save the world. He knew what it was like to fight Death Eaters. Chances were, a lot better than Harry did.

"I didn't kill him." Harry said quickly.

"You didn't?" Scrimgeour asked.

Harry shook his head, "It was all I could do to get the Farcio spell out, another spell hit, and he died."

Scrimgeour glanced at Dumbledore. "Have you had time to hear what happened?"

"Only from second hand sources." Dumbledore admitted. "Harry was out on his feet when we recovered him, and had lost a lot of blood and energy in the fight."

"Perhaps we had better hear the whole story then, from the time trouble first began to the final confrontation." He suggested.

Harry looked at Dumbledore questioningly. He wasn't sure how much he was meant to say about the fight, and the Order. Dumbledore answered for him.

"I'm afraid that shall have to wait Rufus, Poppy is one of those Healers who only has a limited amount of patience before she forcibly ejects people who interrogate her patients, be they Headmaster, or Minister for Magic. Besides," He added sternly, "you place Harry in a very awkward position. You know as well as anyone the reasons why the identities of some of my allies should remain secret."

Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed, and he took a second to compose himself, but Harry could still hear the fury and frustration in his voice as he spoke through his teeth. "Perhaps this is another thing we should speak of in your study, Albus. Is it asking too much for Mr Potter to relate how Lestrange died? For one thing, who killed him?"

"We have no idea." Dumbledore said promptly, as Harry shrugged. "No-one else saw the Avada Kedavra curse apart from Harry."

Harry nodded. "It came from our right, but I couldn't see much at all, my glasses had fallen off."

"So no-one knows anything about his killer?" Scrimgeour said, with an edge of irritation.

"We have verified confirmation that Harry used the Avada Kedavra curse to kill the Dementor, which, of course, is in no way illegal I might add. A simple Priori Incantatem spell should suffice to prove that Harry did not cast a second, and therefore could not have been the one to kill Rabastan Lestrange."

Scrimgeour shook his head, and waved this aside. "I'll take your word for it. To be honest I'm not sure I would be right to do anything even had Mr Potter said he had used an Unforgivable on him. The moral question as to why an Auror should be allowed to use Unforgivables against Death Eaters, and yet a civilian, a _boy_,ought to be sent to Azkaban for doing the same in the defence of his own life, occasionally bewilders me. I think I shall just accept that you are telling the truth in this instance."

He exhaled. "But, of course, the question still remains. What exactly do we do with you Mr Potter? Using an Unforgivable on a Dementor may be legal – just about – but a spell of that power can't just be ignored. Especially with that –" He waved towards the Daily Prophet in disgust, "and the other scavengers lurking around."

Harry didn't venture an opinion. He actually happened to completely agree with the Minister of Magic on both the unfairness of locking someone up for defending themselves against a murdering maniac, and the headaches the Daily Prophet might cause, even if Rita Skeeter remained reined in, and unwilling to make any more sweeping statements about him.

"In normal times we would…" Scrimgeour shook his head with a snort of suppressed dark amusement. "Honestly, I don't know what we would do. The situation rarely comes up, as you might imagine. At the very least we would keep an eye on you. But now-"

He made a frustrated gesture with his arms, and turned to Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore was sitting there patiently, content to allow Scrimgeour to continue to speak. Harry, for his part, was trying to say as little as possible; although, truth be told, he was rather impressed with Scrimgeour's candour, he wasn't willing to reciprocate – especially when he didn't know how much Dumbledore might want said or unsaid.

"We're in chaos, Albus," Scrimgeour continued, "we were understaffed before last night, and we couldn't have spared men to keep tabs on Harry here. Now we're missing four Heads of Departments, and if it weren't for your warning, more would have died. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that Parsons and I seem to be spending all our lives at the office nowadays, we may have been a Head of Aurors and Minister of Magic short as well. Our defences may as well not have been there."

"Again, perhaps a discussion that should best be saved until we converse in my study. I judge our time before an irate Healer reappears to be diminishing." Dumbledore suggested.

Scrimgeour gave a crooked grin and slipped back into his seat. "Very well, Albus. Well, I'll see what pressure I can exert upon the papers to prevent suggestions of your use of the Unforgivables, Mr Potter. I trust you can refrain from giving an exclusive interview to the one paper that proves impossible for the Ministry to lean upon."

Harry grinned slightly at the reference to the Quibbler, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore interjected himself into the conversation.

"If I may, Rufus?"

Scrimgeour blinked. "Would you rather I allowed the rumours to continue, and let people believe that Harry, here, used the Avada Kedavra curse? That he is somehow outside the law, or even that he is powerful enough to cast them? You do realise, I take it, what the public will make of any statement that confirms that? Half of them believe that Harry Potter is 'The Chosen One', the sixteen year old who is going to rid our world of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – again – and this time for good? More than half!"

"I would not go quite that far," Dumbledore replied, a textbook of calmness, "but I would merely suggest that an ambiguous statement might benefit Harry far more than a denial. A statement which clears Harry of any wrongdoing, without specifics, may increase public expectations, but then again it could hardly cause Harry to become more of a target, and such a reputation might deter some of Lord Voldemort's most recent recruits."

"And how does Harry feel about being used in this way?" Scrimgeour asked. "Are you willing to face even more reports about the Boy-Who-Lived, to become an even greater target; for the hope that it might scare a couple of Death Eaters away?"

Harry glanced at him, unable to hide the surprise on his face. He supposed that added fame, or infamy, was inevitable if he wanted to fight Voldemort, or help against the Death Eaters. He could hardly complain about it after how he had felt about being frozen out of the fight last year.

"Well," he said carefully, "it's not like it will make Voldemort want to kill me any more, is it?"

"Perhaps not," Scrimgeour said in a voice of stern caution, "but it could cause him to want to kill you far more painfully and publicly."

"He tried that two years ago." Harry said sharply, and then turned red as he realised how it sounded. "I mean, I'm not trying to be blasé about it or something, but a bit more publicity isn't going to change that. And… well…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think they're going to underestimate me anymore now, and if the Death Eaters believe I can't be killed by the Avada Kedavra, or cutting curses, or whatever, and I can kill them too, well, it has to help, doesn't it?"

Scrimgeour didn't look happy at all, but he shrugged in regretful acquiescence. "I'm sure what's left of our PR department can come up with something suitable. I assume you'll want it to state that Mr Potter is in perfect health, Albus?"

"Naturally." Dumbledore nodded.

A loud clang sounded, as the privacy charms Dumbledore had erected warned them of someone's approach. They all looked at the door, where a bustling Madam Pomfrey appeared, and then stood fiercely.

"That's long enough Albus, Minister. The boy needs rest, and potions, and he can have neither whilst you are grilling him on stressful topics. Any more questioning must wait until this evening at the earliest."

Dumbledore looked rather amused at this, and shared a wink with Harry.

Scrimgeour stood back up. "I think we had best retire to less public quarters anyway Albus." He hesitated. "I must confess Harry, I am not entirely sure whether to congratulate you, wish you luck, tell you to get better soon, or try to impress upon you the dangers of the road you and your Headmaster seem determined to go down. Allow me to just say that I sincerely hope you know what you are doing. If one thing is clear in the mess we find ourselves in, it is that you have too much potential to throw your life away."

"If you would like to make your way to my study Rufus, I shall join you there momentarily." Dumbledore said.

Scrimgeour left the room with a nod, and a sombre expression.

"Headmaster-" Madam Pomfrey began.

"Poppy," Dumbledore interrupted, "there are reassurances I must make to Harry, for he knows little of what followed the circumstances that led him into your care. This will not take long, but I must beg your patience a little longer." A tinkle sounded in the distance, as Scrimgeour left the proximity of the privacy charm. "There are things about which I must put Harry's mind at rest."

Poppy fixed him with a glare. "A matter of minutes more."

"If we could have a few more minutes of privacy then please?" Dumbledore prompted.

With a huff, Madam Pomfrey retreated, and a second tinkle of bells sounded.

As he heard the sound, Harry jumped in before Dumbledore could say a word. Something had just occurred to him.

"One of the Death Eaters apparated away when they recognised me. And that was even while I was being beaten up and didn't have my wand. You've already been trying to make them afraid of me, haven't you? I thought you said you'd tell me when you and the Order did something that involves me." He demanded, feeling betrayed.

"As I would have, had I done anything of the kind." Dumbledore replied in his almost insufferably calm voice. "In truth, the possibility that you could incite a fear in Death Eaters similar to the feeling of the general populace towards Tom Riddle, only occurred to me last night, when I began to hear Bill Weasley's account of the encounter. It appears that you have built up quite a formidable reputation for yourself over the last few years, through your conflicts with Tom, without any assistance needed. Just as Tom fears death, so do his followers, and as he has tried to set himself up as immortal, so too are the Death Eaters more willing to fear you may be the same."

"All this from staying alive when Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Remember, that we have some understanding as to how that worked." Dumbledore reminded him. "The common person on the street has no idea. But still, this could be considered a one-off miracle never to be repeated. But – you then defeated Voldemort in your first two years in school; and, of course: you were in his clutches when he finally returned. He announced to his Death Eaters that he would kill you, and yet you produced magic that Voldemort didn't understand, and evaded him."

"That was Fawkes." Harry interrupted. "Well, in a way. I mean it sounded like him, and it was the feathers from his tail."

"Ah – again Harry, we know that. But do the Death Eaters? How many people outside of you, your friends, our most trusted people, and I know anything about the truth behind the reason Voldemort couldn't kill you. And then of course, the last few fights you have been in, you have not only shown an immunity to certain curses, that few can understand, but also the ability to fight back. Death Eaters do not now see a very difficult to kill child, but rather a near impossible to kill wizard, who seems able to fight back more than adequately."

Harry nodded unwillingly at that picture of himself. He often wished he could swap his reputation with Ron, but as of late there seemed to be a disconcerting push from people like Aravenne, and now Dumbledore, to suggest that building a fearsome reputation was vital for him to stay alive. "And the media just top it off, don't they."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry leant towards a drawer in his bedside table, showing another Daily Prophet.

"Ginny snuck it in this morning, when I wasn't meant to have any visitors." Harry said sheepishly. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't know, you won't tell her will you? She was only here for a minute."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement. "A rather impressive feat seeing as Miss Weasley has also been prescribed bed rest in our Hospital Wing. Your secret is safe with me."

"They seem to have a new thing every day about how or why I'm going to kill Voldemort." Harry said, closing the drawer again. "Ginny says Luna Lovegood's father has put her up to trying to get another interview." He paused, and then returned to his original question; he had to know for certain. "But you didn't do anything to make this… this… _thing_ up about me?"

"I am afraid I may have, inadvertently." Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I know many people question the use of Mundungus Fletcher in our Order. The truth is, he is an excellent rumourmonger, the best, if I may be so bold, and fortunately he is one of those rogues that has a wish to do the right thing every now and then. The fact that his parents are half-and-half might help."

"So you set him to work trying to persuade all the other thieves and murderers that I am some kind of superhero?" Harry asked, starting to feel angry.

"As I have said, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "that idea has only recently come to me. Indeed, it may have been better for us if I had realised it sooner, for we could have done something about it, but as we both know, despite my many achievements I am still quite able to make errors of judgement.

"Mundungus has the job of misdirection: he spreads suggestions that certain fights went in slightly different directions than have been reported, for example, and he also picks up gossip that might give us an advantage – little bits and pieces about Voldemort's plans that either Severus is unable to tell us directly himself, or is unaware of. From now on, of course, we may hope that more of Voldemort's followers wish to be anywhere other than the detail that happens to stumble across you."

"So what do you want me to do?" Harry asked a little bitterly, "Give the Daily Prophet an interview?"

"Well," Dumbledore said mildly, "from the pieces that the former thorn in your side, Rita Skeeter, has been writing about you, it seems that you have some measure of control over what she ends up publishing."

His twinkling eyes studied Harry's intently, and although Harry knew there was no hint of Legilimency, he still felt like Dumbledore could see into his heart.

"Blackmail is perhaps an art we would wish wiped out of society. Occasionally, however, it has its uses, I will admit. Regardless, I do not believe that anything resembling an interview should be attempted. Gossip tends to be at its most effective when there is no direct interference one way or the other; after all, the imagination of thousands of people shall always produce more than that of just one."

Harry remained silent for a few moments, thinking.

"Before I leave you, Harry, have you any questions about last night?" Dumbledore asked in a gentle tone.

"Isn't it a bit of a coincidence that the killing curse hit Lestrange just as my curse hit him?" Harry asked suddenly.

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised, as if this was not the question he had expected, and he nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that thought occurred to me also. Have you any theories why that may have been the case, or who may have cast the spell?"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't me, was it?" He asked suddenly, seeking confirmation. "I mean, I didn't do wandless magic, or it wasn't my mother's protection or something?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I would not think so. The fact that you saw the curse emanate from your right hand side would seem to prevent the possibility of wandless magic, and your mother's protection is just that – protection. Two things immediately jump to my mind however. The first: whoever cast the Avada Kedavra curse did so in order to make it appear as though you cast it, whether to prevent their own discovery or in order to further your reputation. The second is that he or she was remarkably confident in your ability to survive long enough for an opportunity for a stealthy kill to arise."

"Or they didn't care if I died or not." Harry added. "Maybe it was just another Death Eater who hated Lestrange for some reason."

"A somewhat cynical way to look at the situation, although quite plausible." Dumbledore allowed, before adding thoughtfully. "Still, Severus would warn us to be wary of coincidences."

"Hermione and Ron would probably tell me I was reading too much into it." Harry said ironically, almost to himself. Thinking of Ron made Harry remember the Patronus. "Sir? When Lestrange was hitting me, Ron's Patronus was still outside, and, well, he kind of stood in front of me, and, well, half in me."

"Yes Harry?"

"Well… it was as if I suddenly started to think again, and could do something to fight."

Dumbledore smiled. "It was love Harry. The Patronus is the epitome of happy thoughts, as you know, and just as its presence can help the state of mind of its caster, it can also help those that its caster loves. It was Ron's love for you that meant his Patronus calmed your mind. Love is the most effective healer of all."

"Friendship." Harry corrected feeling a little embarrassed. "Ron's friendship for me, not love. I mean, that would be… weird."

Dumbledore's beard twitched. "True friendship is merely a form of love Harry."

"Is that why you let Ron, Ginny, and Hermione come along too?" Harry asked. "Because of their, er, love?"

"I had little choice as to whether you and your friends were to accompany us to Hogsmeade, Harry, as I am sure, deep down, you are aware." Dumbledore said regretfully. "Besides, even assuming I had refused to give permission for you to accompany Severus and I, could I then have expected the four of you to return to your dormitories, and sleep, with the knowledge that Death Eaters may be attacking Hogwarts at any second, perhaps even with Tom Riddle among them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Had I refused to allow you to help I have little doubt that you would have ended up in a battle alongside your teachers at Hogwarts, even assuming you had obeyed me." His mild eyes held no reproach. As a matter of fact, your help was very much appreciated. But perchance you noticed that as we crossed the charm that was surrounding Hogwarts, there were two loud noises: one as I bypassed the original charm; and one as you passed through it? This was obviously created in order to notify when I left…"

"…and if I left too." Harry finished. "But, why?"

"We can only speculate-" Dumbledore began, but his next word was drowned out by a loud gong notifying Madam Pomfrey's impending return. "Perhaps we can debate this at another time Harry. But first, I must ask: how do you feel after using the Avada Kedavra curse against the Dementor?"

He spoke softly, but Harry could tell that he wasn't that concerned if Madam Pomfrey, or any other person heard._ After all – it all adds to the legend building up around him._

"Um." Harry frowned. _Was he meant to feel different?_ "Well, I had to do it, I wouldn't let Hermione or Ginny lose their souls."

"No," Dumbledore said, "you misunderstand me. How do you _feel_?"

"Well, I'd do it again. I guess I'm glad I did it. I- Oh." Harry said, realising what Dumbledore meant. "Well, I felt really drained after the spell, and my spells weren't that powerful, at least until Ron's Patronus. But now I feel okay. Why?"

"Mr Potter is very magically drained at the moment, but he seems to believe that by claiming otherwise, it will miraculously come true." Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she placed two bottles on Harry's bedside table. "Now where is that syrup of _regeno radix_." She bustled away once more.

Harry shook his head earnestly. "I don't feel that bad, a little weak but nothing much. What is the big fuss about me using the spell on a Dementor anyway, surely someone else has killed one with the Avada Kedavra curse?"

"Oh, certainly," Dumbledore said, "like all living creatures, they can be born, and, conversely, be killed. However, like many magical living creatures, they also have strong immunity to curses aimed towards them. In general, when Dementors have been killed by wizards, they have been struck by more than one curse at the same time, for the power needed is increased tenfold, compared to killing an unprotected human, or else, of course, through teamwork of Patronuses. However, some – the very powerful – wizards, have killed Dementors on their own, through use of the killing curse, as you did, the very first time you attempted the spell."

"Now I'm starting to feel a little weird, and a little scared." Harry muttered.

"Very wise." Dumbledore observed, but offered no comforting words. "Do not be surprised, nor alarmed, if your spells appear weaker than usual for the next few days. Obviously the happenings last night may complicate my calendar for the rest of the week, but I hope to see you for Occlumency practice in a couple of days' time. For now, however, I believe I have possibly worn Poppy's patience as thin as presently advisable."

When Madam Pomfrey finished forcing potions upon him, and prescribing sleep, Harry reached back towards the drawer in which lay the Daily Prophet. There was a book in the drawer also; a black book that had been sneaked in along with the paper; Hermione had finally allowed the diary out of her sight. Harry opened the cover, and flicked through the pages to where he had last left it, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Pierre Moreau fell forward, letting go of the arm he had been gripping, and landed on his knees, barely preventing his face from being buried in the soft dew. That had been a very disconcerting feeling – as though his body had been squeezed into one, tiny, speck of dust, and then expanded in a rush. The strong arm that he had let go of took hold of him once more, and its owner – the man called Godric Gryffindor – pulled him to his feet. The slightly squat figure of Salazar Slytherin watched him through narrowed eyes, as if intensely interested by the way he would react.

"What was that?" Pierre asked in a half whisper, feeling his throat gingerly, and trying to feel whether his body was in one piece or not.

A light sparkled in Slytherin's eyes, and he replied in a quiet voice. "We call it Apparition. With the right amount of concentration and magical ability, a wizard is able to disappear in one place, and reappear in another. If a wizard is powerful enough, then they can transport another with them."

"So where are we exactly?"

"Many miles away, in an area unpopulated by Muggles, as it shall remain." Slytherin answered.

_Which didn't answer my question._ "So we moved all that distance in a second, or did it take longer?" Pierre asked, trying to understand what had just happened.

"In a second." Slytherin replied with something akin to smugness.

"Isn't there a way to do it without it hurting so much?" He asked suddenly, still wincing slightly.

Godric Gryffindor laughed. "By the time you have been here a few years, you can create one."

"Really?" Pierre asked, excited by the implications of what he was capable of.

Slytherin laughed this time, a sound which was almost a hiss, and about as different to Gryffindor's hearty sound as possible. "I like this one, Godric."

Gryffindor had a huge grin on his face. "Is that so? Despite the fact he grew up with the Muggles, and in a Monastery of all places."

"You said he was Pureblood Godric." Slytherin said as if that decided the matter.

"Pureblood?" Pierre asked, unsure of the word.

"Your parents were witches and wizards, their parents were witches and wizards, and so on."

Pierre shook his head. "My parents? I don't know anything about them."

"I do, lad. I knew them well." Gryffindor said, sounding sorrowful for a moment. He sighed. "It was because I wished to discuss our school with them, and enlist their help that I discovered them slain, and you hidden."

"Butchered by Muggles, because they were Wizards." Slytherin said in righteous anger.

"We do not know that." Gryffindor said sharply. "I searched for their killers for years, so that their souls could be at peace, and their son could be provided for and sure of safety, but it is still a mystery as to what actually happened."

"So instead you left him to grow up with a Squib, in the heart of our enemies." Slytherin said accusingly.

"Where better for Pierre to be but in a place where he could be protected by his uncle from harm, and also learn how Muggles think and act? Remember Salazar that many of the Muggles believe their priests to have powers from their God."

Pierre was having great difficulty following the conversation. "I don't know any uncle, and what's a Squib?"

"Your father's eldest brother was born of Wizarding parents, but yet has no magical ability himself." Godric Gryffindor explained. "He is what we call a Squib. He was also your Abbot."

"Sometimes Squibs can be the biggest danger to us, for they know far more of our world than any Muggle." Slytherin said with distaste. "Jealousy. We have power, and they do not."

"Enough." Gryffindor said with finality as they approached a large, stone structure. "We have been through this argument many times, my friend, and doubtless we shall again, but for now let us get our new student settled in whilst his fellow students are still there to greet him."

Slytherin pursed his lips but made no complaint. He noticed Pierre looking at the building they approached curiously, and offered an explanation of the huge hulking structure. "Once completed, this castle shall be our school. Part of your study shall involve the continued building of it, so that one day we may be able to open our doors to all wizards who wish to study, rather than just the most gifted."

_Most gifted?_ Pierre queried internally. _Not so long ago I was a young novice with some skill with herbs and calligraphy, and would have been an assistant to either Brother Dominic, or Brother Patrick once I was old enough to be an apprentice._

"Are many of the students like me?" Pierre asked nervously. "Not knowing anything about magic?"

"Some." Godric told him, leading him towards a much smaller separate building detached from the main frame of the castle, which was still many times larger than any building Pierre could remember seeing before. "Some of our students are of Pureblood, and have learnt some magic from their families; some were born to a Muggle mother and father. All, however, have much to learn, be they ten, or forty seven." A strange smile lingered on his lips as he glanced at Slytherin.

"She has the gift of Parseltongue, Godric." Salazar said, sounding slightly affronted. "She may have had parents with a wide knowledge of magic, but they had none of Parseltongue. It is a dying art, and it must be nourished. Who knows, perhaps there may have been wizards who could converse with other animals in the past?"

Gryffindor grinned widely, and pushed the heavy looking doors open with no apparent effort. Inside was a large hall, filled with sturdy looking tables and chairs, and opening into another large room which seemed set aside for cooking. Multiple doors led into another room behind, which was even bigger than the hall. This was filled with cubicles, some basic, some looking particularly robust; which, judging by some of the open doors, led into beds, and a small space to call your own.

Pierre walked into the hall nervously. A couple of people watched him just as cautiously from tables, but it seemed as if the majority of people were still asleep. He shouldered the small bag which contained his personal belongings, and looked back towards the two wizards.

"Choose a bed." Gryffindor told him. "This is just a temporary sleeping area, we will arrange more permanent chambers in time. For now settle in. We shall return later."

Pierre walked through the door closest to him, and looked around the large sleeping chamber in amazement. There had to be at least twenty separate rooms, two of which looked to have walls as thick as the building they were in. The majority of them, however, were flimsy things which looked made out of thin sheets of something, but what, Pierre couldn't tell.

One of the fortress-like rooms had an open door, in which sat a dark haired, middle-aged, slim woman, who had looked up at his entrance. There was something about her gaze that made Pierre feel as though he were being examined like a trophy on a wall. As she saw the bag on his shoulder her pretty face narrowed into a scowl, her nose pinching upwards in an expression of disgust. Pierre looked away, and began to move instead towards the other brick room.

He was fascinated by the fact that such a room should exist inside a massive stone structure such as the one he was now in. He knew that only magic could have done this, but if he _was _considered to be one of the 'most gifted', did that mean he could do something similar? He tried to imagine the scope of what might be available to him, and failed – but that didn't mean he couldn't try to find out. The rooms on either side were empty, doors wide open, and straw mattresses carefully made, but even that warning sign didn't deter him from the possibility of learning more about magic.

_Besides,_ he reasoned, _I can always move._

He set his meagre possessions on the bed, and glanced back through the doorway. No-one had yet made a move – friendly or otherwise – towards him, making it look like it was up to him to make the introductions. The two Founders had been watching him, and the room, and when he looked at them, they withdrew. There was a strange glint in Slytherin's eye that drew Pierre's attention, but he couldn't understand what it signified.

Glancing around nervously at the still watchful crowd, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and left his rude cubicle to knock on the sturdy looking door beside his room.

"What?" An irritated voice, which, though gruff, did not sound much older than his own, barked.

"I thought I'd introduce myself-" he began.

"Don't bother." The voice answered. "I don't really care."

Pierre momentarily reconsidered his decision to choose a room beside the door of someone who obviously knew a lot about magic and was probably antagonistic, but his wish to learn how to create something like that of his own caused him to persist.

"Well, looks like I'm your neighbour," He said with a shrug that obviously couldn't be seen through the solid oak door, "so we might as well know each other's name."

"I've already had a couple of neighbours." The voice said darkly.

"Well if you scared them away, then you might as well open the door now." Pierre said recklessly. "That way I can decide whether I want to choose another room or not before I settle in to stay."

There was a snap, and the door opened ponderously. A bulkily built teenager sat on a bed five yards away, a frown on his slightly misshapen face, a book lying open beside him. He looked as much like a brawler as anything, which for some reason took Pierre by surprise. He had expected a powerful wizard to be frail for some reason, and to radiate power through presence rather than physical attributes. The boy certainly radiated power – he looked like he could lift a wagon on his own.

"Hello." The boy said with a wary lack of interest.

"I'm Pierre." He said as way of introduction, and raised his eyebrows as the boy didn't respond, but rather sat glowering at him. "Can I come in?" He persisted.

"No."

Pierre sighed and tried again. Some of the Brothers in the monastery had been stubborn, obtuse, and downright scary at times, but Pierre had quickly learnt that showing fear, or backing down often led to worse than asserting himself.

"How'd you do that?" He asked, gesturing through the door.

The boy sneered. "I take it you _are_ a wizard?"

"Looks like it. Can you teach me how to do it?"

The boy made a disparaging noise. "Making walls and doors are difficult – it takes a long time to learn."

"Actually, I just meant opening the door." Pierre said. The humour seemed lost on the boy.

"Muggleborn?" He asked in a disgusted question.

"I don't know." Pierre frowned. "My parents are dead. Master Gryffindor said he knew them."

"Master Gryffindor?" He scoffed.

"Well what do you call him then?" Pierre challenged. "Or have you never had teachers before."

"His name. And you've had teachers?" He said in snide incredulity.

"Of course. To learn how to read and write." Pierre was surprised, and he let his tone show it. He had assumed that all wizards would be able to read and write – that was one of the first thing the Brothers at the Monastery had insisted he learnt. "Surely you did too?" He said, pointing at the book.

"Of course." The nameless boy said, but with what seemed to Pierre to be a defensive, unsure, tone. "In fact, I suppose this might be a good time to try out a new spell."

He raised his wand, and pointed it at Pierre. Pierre didn't move, confident that this was just a threatening gesture the boy made to get rid of unwanted neighbours. The boy's frowning face turned into a slight smile.

"Tallantega." The boy said with a flourish of his wand.

A sparkle of light flew out of the wand but faded well before where Pierre stood. Pierre didn't move, surprised by the fact the boy looked like he had tried to cast a spell and failed. Maybe despite the fact some people already knew magic, he wasn't going to be miserably outclassed.

"Some spells take a while to learn." The boy said carelessly.

He shrugged, and then with a sudden violent gesture a beam of light shot out of his wand, and hit the wall beside Pierre's face. It took Pierre by surprise, for there was no word spoken, and nor was there the exaggerated flourish of the first spell. The wall exploded, and dust entered the room. Another spell caused it to fly into Pierre's face and out into the main room, where it dispersed.

Pierre stumbled and coughed. He heard a snicker of stifled laughter from somewhere in the room, and stood up, wiping at his face with a dirty sleeve, and not allowing himself to look away from the other boy.

"Still here?" The boy sneered.

"Yes." Pierre said coldly. "And you'd better make sure you practice your spells, because I'm a quick learner."

The nameless boy snorted. "A Muggleborn? Don't expect me to be cowering in fear."

"Did I say I was a'Muggleborn'?" Pierre asked.

"So what Wizarding family are your parents then?"

"I told you, they're dead."

"Where do _you _live then? Are they Wizards?"

Pierre hesitated. Something told him that saying he had led a normal life with the Brothers at the Monastery would be a bad thing. "I'm not sure… I lived with my Uncle, but I only just found out that we were... I doubt I'll be going back, so I guess I live here now."

"Have a wand?" The boy asked carelessly, suddenly without a trace of animosity – almost as if he considered Pierre beneath his notice.

Pierre shook his head. "They said a wand-maker would be coming here in a few days."

"Then I suppose you'd better wait a few days then, hadn't you?"

"You could always lend me your wand, and show me now." Pierre suggested.

The boy smirked. "And what makes you think I would do that, and not aim for your face next time."

"Because I'm not going to move to a different bed, so we'll still be neighbours. And I doubt you will try and kill me, unless you want to face the Masters."

The boy snorted. "There you go again with the 'Masters'. They're Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw." He looked at Pierre scornfully again, and then seemed to make a decision. "Come in." He motioned with the wand.

Pierre hesitated.

"What? You're scared now? Come in and close the door. You wanted a magic lesson, didn't you?"

Pierre tried to understand the strange boy's mood swing, but failed, and, slightly irresponsibly, took a few steps into the room.

"Look." The boy instructed, gesturing with his wand again.

Pierre turned around in time to see the door shut itself.

The boy started to mutter, and to Pierre's shock, the hole that had been created from the boy's explosive spell started to mend itself, pure stone appearing from nowhere, and blotting the hole out, like Brother Patrick's special paper would blot mistakes by a quill.

"So you're going to show me how to cast spells?" Pierre asked.

The boy looked him up and down, still looking scornful. "Each wand is designed for each person. It's hard to use someone else's."

"I could try." Pierre replied.

The boy gave a burly half shrug. "How about this. I show you a spell, and you try to do it. You succeed, I might teach you some other stuff. You fail – you move, and give me some peace."

"I might." Pierre replied, in mimicry of the boy's tone.

There was a half flicker of non-malicious amusement from the boy, or perhaps Pierre imagined it, for the smirk was on his face as he started to show Pierre how to open the door.

As the boy finally handed Pierre the wand, he felt a thrill rush through him. Could he really do magic? He pointed the wand at the door, and concentrated on the motion and enunciation he had just been shown.

The door clicked, and opened a crack. Pierre chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye. There was a momentary look of surprise as the boy reached out for his wand. Pierre surrendered it without a word, trying to win the battle of wills that might force the boy to make some concession. He glanced at the book on the bed – it was written in a spidery script, by a thin quill, large, and easily read.

"The word is Tarantellegra." Pierre said suddenly. "Not what ever you tried earlier."

"Oh yeah?" The boy challenged.

Yes." Pierre said confidently. He was a good speller – reading was easy.

The boy stared at him for what seemed like an age, and then abruptly, turned, and opened the door fully.

"I feel like a walk." He told Pierre. "Come on. Maybe I'll show you a few things." He glanced at Pierre shrewdly. "If you make sure I'm reading that book properly."

Pierre followed him out the door, giving a glance towards his bag, and wondering about the boy's attitude, and why exactly he was considering befriending him. The wary, astonished looks that he was receiving from the others in the sleeping chamber were not lost on him. Even the woman who had looked down her nose at him seemed to have a calculating expression on her face.

The boy saw him look around, and closed both doors with a flick of his wand. "It'll be safe there." He turned forward to walk out of the main room, and then hesitated. "I'm Antrim."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Pierre wasn't sure what to make of his relationship with Antrim. At various times in the diary, he described the boy as surly, indifferent, and even cruel. He seemed to hold most of the other students in contempt, despite being younger than many of them. For some reason unfathomable to Pierre, however, he had taken the young boy under his wing. True to his word, he started showing different spells to Pierre, and Pierre began to help him with his reading and writing. A relationship of some sort was forming, but whether it was friendship or not, Pierre couldn't say.

Antrim had obviously grown up learning about magic from a very early age, in particular, aggressive magical spells seemed to be his forte, and it sounded as though his first word had also been his first incantation. He only very rarely mentioned anything about his life before the school, or his family, but was more evasive than abrupt when asked a personal question. This puzzled Pierre even more, for he had assumed that an aggressive dismissal would be the natural response he would receive. One thing was for sure, however, he didn't like Muggles.

Pierre, on the other hand, on the rare occasion that Antrim showed any sort of interest in his previous life, had quickly decided never to mention his upbringing in a Muggle Monastery to anyone, let alone Antrim.

The ability to read and write seemed, almost inexplicably, nonexistent among the other students, and Pierre was hopeful he might be able to socialise, and make other friends through similar trades. However, two things seemed to be preventing this; firstly, and most importantly, he had barely turned eleven, and most of the people in the room seemed to be a lot older. Secondly, people seemed to defer to him rather, or give him extra space, as if scared they might have to deal with Antrim.

Pierre – who seemed, Harry felt, from his descriptions to be a quick study both in magic, and the world around him – had quickly come to a conclusion about the reticence among the other students:

Everyone was afraid. The pupils who were not from Wizarding families were scared of those who knew any magic whatsoever, and the few people who had more extensive knowledge of the arcane were at once afraid of the Muggles discovering them or their families, and contemptuous of the Muggleborns' lack of magic. Everyone in between seemed to have the same fears in varying amounts according to their abilities and heritage.

The morning after Pierre arrived, a tall woman had swept into the room, wearing robes of green, and looking more like a rich lady than a teacher; the only concession to the work she was doing were two framed lenses attached to her nose. Their plainness stood out, and drew attention to the otherwise elegant face. She called for Pierre Moreau in a voice that was unused to being ignored, and Pierre stood up from the table he was sitting at.

What followed was a private meeting with the third Founder – Rowena Ravenclaw – which was a basic appraisal of Pierre's strengths and weaknesses. She showed what seemed to be genuine pleasure both at his ability to read and write, and with his wish to know what the odd frames perched on her nose did; but gave him frank instructions to improve his knowledge of the Wizarding world and its history as well as warning him of the importance of diligence in his future magical studies. Given his ability with quill and parchment, she lent him a couple of books – plain compared to the books he had seen in the Monastery – which he was instructed to read thoroughly. When she left him with the suggestion that he might be taught other languages, Pierre had marked her down as a very clever woman, who would have no patience for those who, whether through slackness, or lack of understanding, failed any task she set. Plus he had learnt a new word, which was always a matter of satisfaction for Pierre. 'Spectacles'.

A slightly round faced woman, whose cheeks seemed to glow, and radiate with warmth proved to be the fourth Founder and Pierre's first glimpse of her was as she entered the students' building in the middle of the afternoon, three days after he had arrived – when most of the students, including Antrim, were away. With her was a black haired girl, who could have been Pierre's sister. Her face was scarred viciously, and badly bruised, but, although her hair was patchy and tangled, she had the same facial structure, the same thick eyelashes, even the same athletic, but not muscled build. She could almost have been a twin, for she looked about the same age as Pierre.

Pierre had looked up at her entrance from the same table he had been sitting at when Rowena Ravenclaw had called for him, where he was toying with the notes that he was making in an effort to improve Antrim's reading and writing. Remembering the torturous way that _he_ had been taught, he was determined to try a different approach, but wasn't sure he had found one. He shifted slightly in his seat as all thoughts of lessons flew out the window, unsure whether to be friendly, as his instinct told him to be, or to cautiously observe, like all the other students seemed to.

The decision was taken out of his hands, for Helga Hufflepuff had scanned the room quickly, and was leading the limping girl towards a group of people who had little knowledge of magic, but yet had gained enough numbers that they were left alone by the witches or wizards who already knew some spells – and had wands. It was one of the few largish groups of people in the building, mostly people were in groups of two or three. It seemed that no-one talked to anyone unless they had some measure of trust.

On the other hand, Antrim was quite content to spend his time on his own, which meant that, although they were, at times, one of the groups of twos, Pierre often drifted around, trying to talk to the other people. Everyone left the woman who owned the other sturdy structure alone, as they did Antrim. Occasionally, the woman – Ara – would approach one group or another and demand a trade, which more often than not seemed rather unfair upon the other persons, and some of the other dominant groups would exert pressure from time to time, but Pierre's association with Antrim meant he was the other person who was left well alone at all times.

Antrim seemed to have built quite a reputation, but from the few days Pierre had had of his company, he wasn't sure how much was fair. While Antrim had strong feelings towards Muggleborns, and could be taciturn and surly, it struck Pierre that Antrim just wanted to be left alone, and couldn't bring himself to trust anyone. Why he had decided to put up with Pierre, he didn't know, but he was doing more than that – even when Antrim had decided he wanted to be alone, Pierre had seen him glancing in his direction, as though to make sure he was safe.

For some reason, Pierre found himself glancing at the newcomer throughout the afternoon, and rather than doing anything productive, he began to wonder how she had earned those scars. Despite his youth, he wasn't so naïve as to believe that she had necessarily been harmed by normal people – or Muggles, as he was learning to call them – for being a witch. Perhaps he might have believed so before he had come to this school in the making, but the general aura of lack of trust in the building suggested another possibility: that she was harmed by people like Ara, or even, perhaps, Antrim.

As he looked across at her once more, trying to imagine why she still appeared so battered in a group of witches and wizards, who presumably should have been able to heal her, Ara approached the group which were huddled around the newcomer. Pierre couldn't hear the words said, but he could hear their tone, and he could see the vicious, backhanded swipe towards the bruised girl.

The group jumped to their feet, but the woman only laughed derisively. She took a couple of steps backwards, and then drew her wand, causing the entire room to go still. The wounded girl crouched in a defensive position – which spoke louder than words ever could, of piteous tortures suffered – and turned her head.

A moment of brief, intense, silence followed.

"Serpensortia!" Ara hissed, in a voice tinted with venom.

A large snake appeared, and circled on the spot, making short, sharp movements, and flickering its tongue. Despite its size, Pierre recognised its markings. It was an oversized grass-snake, the grand-daddy of all the ones he had helped Brother Dominic dispose of in the Monastery. The group in front of Ara didn't seem to know that it was merely an overgrown harmless snake, however, for as one, they recoiled.

A whimper from the cowering girl caused Pierre to jump to his feet with a loud scrape of wood on floor. He had seen people punished brutally before, he had even seen people killed, screaming in agony, but never before had he felt able to do anything about it. Ara twirled furiously on the sport, eyeing up Pierre as he found his feet. She sniffed in mocking scorn, the disdainful sound loud in the silent hall.

"Sit down, little boy." She hissed. "Stay out of matters which don't concern you."

Pierre found himself trembling, but from fear or anger he did not know. "The snake's a grass-snake." He blurted out. "It can't seriously hurt you."

"Harmless?" She smiled coldly. "The little boy thinks you're harmless."

And then, with a sudden chill that set all the hair on his arms and neck on end with terror, she began to hiss. The snake looked at her, swaying, and then began to hiss as well, turning to face Pierre. Suddenly the snake looked a lot less harmless to Pierre, and the woman that seemed – incredibly – to be talking to a snake, looked more fearsome still. Pierre backed away, knocking his stool over, suddenly aware of how much bigger this snake was to all the others he and the Brother had dealt with. The snake slithered towards him, stalking him, and Pierre felt his back press up against a wall.

It poised to lurch forward, opened its gaping maw, and-

It exploded.

A furious Antrim, wand in hand, strode forwards from the doorway.

"You leave him alone." He said in an angry, gruff voice.

"Tell your little friend here to keep his nose out of my business, then, Antrim." She said, icily. "We both know that I know far more magic than you, despite your tricks. Don't make me show you just how much."

Antrim pointed his wand at her with a sudden jerk, and the woman spoke a word or two, almost as swift as thought. The entire _air_ before her seemed to squeeze together, an almost invisible mass, which was only identifiable by lines of pressure around its edges, slightly obscured her features for a second or two, before it disappeared once more.

"You aren't _that_ confident I see." Antrim said sneering.

A moment later, Antrim was pushed back into Pierre by a force just as invisible, squashing him back into the wall.

"I've left you alone so far, boy, but you are still just a boy. Remember that." Ara spat.

Antrim pushed himself off Pierre roughly, and raised his wand in rage, but Pierre reached forwards and forced the wand tip down. This woman was dangerous.

_Of course, so was Antrim, _he realised belatedly. Antrim, however, didn't take umbrage with his movement. He simply glared across the room towards Ara.

"We had a deal." He snarled. "You leave me alone, I leave you alone. That goes for him too." He jerked his thumb behind him.

"Does that go for this Muggleborn, as well?" She replied silkily. She raised her eyebrows, and then, with a gesture which defined pure contempt, turned, and walked deliberately to her room.

Antrim watched her all the way through the door, and remained glaring long after it had closed; Pierre watched him all the while, only looking away when the quiet, halting voice of the beaten girl interrupted them.

"You shouldn't have done that." She said timidly. "She knows hundreds of ways to hurt you."

"Y- Ah- You know her?" Pierre stammered in confusion.

The girl nodded, face averted towards the ground, as though afraid to look anyone in the eye.

"She- She's the daughter of- of the man who looked after me." She said to a dumbfounded Pierre. "Th- Thank you." She said, and turned away.

Antrim sat down, and after a moment's pause said roughly. "Another Muggleborn?" When Pierre didn't respond, he continued. "Gods, soon they'll be hardly any of us Purebloods in comparison. What were you thinking you idiot?"

"She's been tortured, it looks like." Pierre responded, feeling a thrill of horror as he admitted the idea.

"And?"

"Well… she's been tortured." Pierre repeated.

"So what?"

"So…" Pierre trailed off, and looked at his companion. "So you don't feel at all sorry for her?"

"Of course I do." Antrim scoffed, and looked to the ceiling in disgust. "I should have let Ara have the two of you. Look, I'd rather it was a Muggleborn that got hurt for being a witch, than one of us. One less Muggleborn, then there's one less to lead the Muggles to us. You do know what Muggles do to us?"

"I've seen a witch-burning." Pierre said tightly; it was a memory he tried to submerge – the woman had been a simple herbalist who had managed to squirm free and swim away as they tried to drown her.

"Good." Antrim said. "Then you'll know why she, and the rest of that lot, shouldn't be here."

"If anyone tried to burn you, you'd just hit them in the face with that curse of yours." Pierre said.

"True. But not all of us know how to protect ourselves. Look at you! You don't even have a wand. For Merlin's sake stop looking at her. She's a damned Muggleborn. Maybe they do it on purpose, maybe not. It doesn't matter in the end, does it?"

"W-"

"You ever been hit by an arrow?" He asked aggressively. "Ever seen your brother get hit by one? No? Ever watched them grab your brother's neck, and twist, because he couldn't run fast enough?"

Pierre just looked at him.

Antrim stood up. "Try not to do anything stupid." He seethed, and stormed to his room.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"How much of the diary did you read, Harry?" Hermione asked excitedly, as she, Ron, and Ginny escorted Harry out of the Hospital Wing, and they walked down towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"Forget that, Ginny said you were visited by the Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore." Ron said, interrupting Harry's reply. "What did they say?"

Harry began to fill them in with what had been said, but, as he came to the point that Dumbledore was trying to make the Death Eaters scared of him, Ron burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Harry said, nettled.

"Sorry." Ron choked out. "But you should have seen your face when you said that – it was a picture."

"You looked absolutely horrified." Ginny said with a giggle. "You'd have thought you'd be used to that sort of thing by now."

"Yeah, well," Harry said, "people thinking you're off your nut, or people acting like Colin Creevey, is different to Death Eaters running away from you in terror."

"Well," Hermione said seriously, "I'm sure it's just meant to make the people who were bullied into joining the Death Eaters – or people like Sirius said his brother was, you know, got too far in before they knew what they were doing – think twice. I mean, it's not as if Professor Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort is going to run away from you."

"Do you have to be so bloody logical?" Harry asked grumpily. "I know it's the right thing to do, alright? It's just-"

"You'd rather no-one had ever heard of you." Ginny finished, trying to hide her smile.

Ron coughed.

Two first year Ravenclaws were approaching them with awed looks in their eyes.

"Did you really use the Avada Kedavra curse, sir?" One of them asked, timidly.

"Oh yeah, he did." Ron replied immediately. "And then he put five Death Eaters under the Imperius curse at the same time, and made them stun each other. And when he used the Crucia-"

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply, as Ginny snorted with laughter, and the two first years' eyes grew as wide as saucers, naively believing every word Ron said. "He isn't being serious you two."

The two first years turned scarlet and practically sprinted away.

"What?" Ron said, loudly enough for the fleeing children to hear. "I mean, honestly: asking someone if they used an Unforgivable."

"Sir." Ginny giggled. "When did you become a 'sir', Harry?"

"Shut it, will you?"

"Yes sir!" Ron responded gleefully, provoking Harry to throw a punch at his shoulder – which missed.

With a nasty start, Harry picked up an undercurrent of relief bordering on hysteria behind the laughter.

"What, Harry?" Hermione asked gently.

"I-" Harry began, not knowing exactly what to say.

"What's up?" Ron said, grinning.

"I- I'm sorry." Harry said finally.

"Sorry?" Ginny said in confusion.

"I always seem to end up doing something which scares you guys stupid, no matter what."

"We failed you." Ron said, the humour in his voice vanishing, and the guilt that replaced it hitting Harry like a tonne of bricks. "We promised we'd be there to protect you, but we weren't. You were there, fighting on your own, and we couldn't get back out to help you.

"You did help me!" Harry burst out. "If it wasn't for your Patronus I'd've been a goner!"

"That was Hermione's idea." Ron mumbled.

"Exactly, so what would I have done without you being there?" Harry said earnestly.

"But none of it was your fault." Hermione answered him in a voice that shook a fraction. "I was the one who told you to fight the Death Eaters rather than the Dementors, if I hadn't done that-"

"I don't mean just about that, anyway. I mean, if I'd just seen one of you kill a Dementor with the Avada Kedavra curse, I'd be pretty damn scared too." Harry said gruffly.

Harry was vaguely aware of a whispering from the portraits on the walls to his sides, but kept his head down, not looking at them or his friends.

"That doesn't _scare_ us, Harry." Ginny said in a rather small voice.

"Well it scares me." Harry admitted, still looking at the floor.

"Just because you can cast it doesn't mean you're a Dark Wizard, Harry." Ron said, as the resultant silence threatened to continue indefinitely. "I mean, remember what Aravenne said."

Harry shook his head but said nothing. He glanced up at his friends' faces. Hermione had a look of dawning comprehension.

"It isn't because you cast it, is it Harry?" She asked. "It's because you killed the Dementor." Harry just looked at her, and as she spotted the lack of understanding on the other two's faces, she continued. "The reason the Ministry made a deal with such Dark creatures as Dementors, is because they are so hard to kill. Usually it takes a number of wizards working together. So the Ministry thought it would be safer to make a deal with them to feed off criminals, rather than let them continue feeding off Muggles, and Wizards who couldn't defend themselves."

"Bloody Hell." Ron whispered.

"That still shouldn't scare you, Harry." Ginny said quietly. "It just means you should be more confident. It means you're more powerful."

"And what if I can't control it?" Harry asked. "I wasn't in control of it then, I just saw it reaching towards you, and…"

"Well, we'll just have to make sure you're trying to protect us, and it will be fine." Ron said, trying feebly to joke.

"Ron-" Hermione began.

"No." Harry said. "I'd rather he did. Everyone's going to be like those Ravenclaws back there, and I'd rather Ron made jokes about it, then having to deal with that. Anyway," He pointed out the empty frames either side of them (with the exception of one or two characters that were trying to listen in, and hide at the same time), "I don't mind if the portraits start spreading rumours about me – that's what Dumbledore wants – but it'd probably best if they didn't start spreading rumours about you guys too. Let's not talk about this now."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. Harry looked around, but couldn't tell which Weasley had glared at her.

Dinner was in full flow when they entered the Great Hall, but first one person, and then another, spotted them, and the buzz of conversation ceased abruptly.

"It was like this at lunch when we came in." Ron muttered, leading them between the gawking students to a place at the Gryffindor table. "Everyone kept coming over and asking us what happened."

"And what did you say?" Harry asked a little nervously.

"We just reminded them what the Daily Prophet was printing last year, and what was actually the truth." Hermione said.

"And then told them to bugger off." Ron interjected, and then with a sideways glance at Hermione, and the hint of a smile, added: "Well, I did anyway."

"They got the point after a while, and stopped bothering us." Hermione told him.

"You mean McGonagall was furious about it, and they didn't want detention!" Ron grinned.

Harry smiled back ruefully. "I don't know how Dumbledore expects me not to answer yes or no to these questions."

"Leave that to us!" Ron said dramatically, with a flourishing salute which suggested the acceptance of an important mission.

Ginny poked him in the back, forcing him to move a couple of seats further down the table, rather than sitting next to Dean. While Seamus and Lavender in particular had grinned at Harry, Dean's face looked acutely unwelcoming.

Ron was as good as his word, for, what he had begun with the Ravenclaw first years, he continued with enviable imagination and flair, culminating in a long hard duel with 'You-Know-Who himself', in which Harry had resisted all three Unforgivables, been flung into a burning building, and yet still picked himself up, and cast curse after curse at 'You-Know-Who', finally causing him to writhe in agony under the Cruciatus curse, before he apparated away from Harry in terror.

"You know," Seamus' voice said, before Ron had finished spinning his yarn to a large group of third years, "I heard that while they were duelling, they discovered a boggart, and it turned into Harry when it saw You-Know-Who, is that true Ron?" He grinned widely towards Harry.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, seizing upon the idea, "and you should have seen how pale he went when he saw two Harrys."

More and more Gryffindors began to follow Seamus' lead, and joined in, forming a very effective deterrent against the unwary. In fact, long after the would-be questioners had given up in disgust, the tales continued to grow taller and taller. Only Dean had disappeared from the Gryffindors by the time they had finally left the now empty Great Hall.

"So, Harry," Seamus began, "what really happened?"

"You should know." Ginny – who had been very quiet during the meal – told him. "You've just been telling everyone for the last half an hour." She gave an innocent smile, and walked a little quicker.

Harry grinned at Seamus, raised his eyebrows, and sped up to catch up to Ginny.

"Right!" Ron said loudly as they reached the common room, as people looked like they were going to surround Harry once more. "Does anyone else want to ask Harry stupid questions about whether he used an Unforgivable or not?"

* * *

_A/N: __I know I didn't delve too deeply into why Dumbledore let Harry and the others go to Hogsmeade, but that kind of thing can really drag... Anyway, I credit my readers with enough intelligence to figure some of them out for themselves..._

_I wasn't sure how to do the diary - in the end, I just decided to dive into it as a 'in-story story' as it were. My only worry about that was that JKR doesn't do that much, but she does still do it, plus Harry is reading it. It's scary actually, but I have so much back story and know so much about Pierre and the rest that I could branch off and do a seperate story on that. Extremely unlikely, but just about possible that I might._


	28. Tête à têtes

**Chapter 28: Tête-à-têtes**

"I have been asked already whether the final of the duelling competition will take place tomorrow." Aravenne began without preamble. "As I told my questioner then, I believe it would be disrespectful, not to say distasteful, to continue as if the weekend's events had not taken place, therefore we shall do something slightly different tomorrow, and hold the final of the duelling competition the week after. Tomorrow we shall link up with the subject of today's lesson: Magical traps, and how to spot and diffuse them.

"Mr Potter, I would advise you to utilise this extra week to prepare, for I have little doubt that your opponent will do the same."

Harry nodded, whilst trying to keep his face impassive. In truth he had virtually forgotten about his upcoming duel with Malfoy – their confrontation had lost almost all significance to him after the experience of duelling not only for his life, but those of his friends, and complete strangers. Indeed, despite his best efforts, he found maintaining concentration on the lesson (which seemed to have been not exactly inspired, but certainly affected by Harry's use of the Deprendo Arcanum charm in his duel against Blaise Zabini) rather than thoughts of the past few days nigh impossible.

"Yes Miss Abbott?" Aravenne's voice inquired; and Harry tried to focus on the lesson.

"I didn't think Search Spells were in the N.E.W.T. syllabus, sir?" She asked, a little timidly.

"Very true." Aravenne agreed, raising his eyebrows slightly. "They have not been part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus for a number of years now, although they have always been in the Advanced class when it has been held, to the best of my knowledge. However, my job as your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is not to merely get you through school tests, but rather primarily to instruct you in how to defend yourself against any Dark Wizard, or Dark Creatures that may assail you in the world outside. As Mr's Potter and Zabini proved in the last week, recognising traps and disarming them can be key in any encounter which puts your life on the line, and as we all know from the daily newspapers, the arts of defence are sorely needed at this time. I have always had the philosophy that school is intended to prepare you for the life in the world outside, not exams."

Ron made a sound, half covered by a hand and a cough, which could have been one of amusement.

"Yes Mr Weasley?" Aravenne enquired, causing Ron to go red.

"Um, it's just- Ah-" Ron muttered, and trailed off.

Hermione looked at Ron with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, and intervened for him. "Sir, our teacher last year said that the only purpose of school was to pass exams."

"Ah – Miss Umbridge." Aravenne said, as if that explained everything. He remained looking at Ron for a couple of seconds, and then continued. "I might have known, I have observed similar reactions throughout this year. I would hope that by now you have had the chance to tell that our teaching methods differ significantly. Assuming that I do my job properly, and you yours, then when you leave this school, you will not have to hold out a piece of paper, and hope that it saves you; but rather, no matter the situation, you will do the things you have control over, should you happen to be in danger. Vigilance for magical traps is one of these things."

Harry had a brief sensation of déjà vu – that line could have come from Mad-Eye Moody. Harry's attention wavered again, and he found himself replaying Dumbledore's words in his head about his ability to kill the Dementor.

"However, some – the very powerful – wizards, have killed Dementors on their own, through use of the killing curse, as you did, the very first time you attempted the spell."

How could he, Harry, truly be that powerful? Yes, he had been through a lot, he had fought Voldemort himself more than once and escaped, but he had always had help. Here was Dumbledore suggesting that Harry had a power in magic that few people could match, and one that wasn't lingering protection from his mother, or transferred from Voldemort, or provided by Fawkes, or Godric Gryffindor, or Dumbledore, or anybody else; but one that was his – with everything that went with it, including the responsibility of its use. Harry wasn't fooling himself, he had relived the moment in his head many times – the surge of energy through his body; the fear that had coursed through his veins as the Dementor had first reached for Hermione, and then Ginny; the violent green light that had overlaid his vision in the shape of a lightning bolt…

It had been wandless magic – Harry was sure of it – and that scared him as much as the thought that he could kill people with just two words and a twig of wood. It scared him more. There had been a small arc of space that the spell could have flown through to hit the Dementor, and yet miss Ginny. What if this unpredictable 'talent' had missed? What if he lost his temper in the future and couldn't stop himself using it, no matter what Aravenne tried to teach him? What if he had all this power, but couldn't control it?

Harry stifled an intake of breath. Ron had just delivered a discreet kick underneath the table. A moment later, Harry was grateful, for Aravenne called upon him to demonstrate the magical search spell that Harry had used in his duel. The green light that came from his wand looked rather sombre to Harry's eyes, and it looked more orange than red as it passed the area Aravenne had indicated, reminding him once more of his conversation with Dumbledore, and the fact that Dumbledore thought his magic might take a day or two to recover. No-one else seemed to notice anything though, so he thought he might have just imagined it. Harry internally tried to clear his thoughts and pay attention to the lesson.

"Mr Potter," Aravenne said quietly, as the lesson ended, and the majority of the students rose to leave, "if you could perhaps wait behind a moment?"

Harry nodded, and dawdled slightly, so that he would be the last to leave the room. To his surprise, Ron too had barely started to pack his books away. He looked at Ron enquiringly.

"I need to ask Aravenne something." Ron said, in a tight voice, simultaneously trying to shrug as if it was nothing.

"What?"

"Doesn't matter." Ron said curtly.

"Come on, you can tell me." Harry grinned. "What's up?"

"I told you, it's nothing." Ron muttered. "I just need to ask him something, that's all."

"Hermione must be having a dangerous influence on you." Harry quipped. "Better not let Fred or George know you waited behind to ask a teacher a question."

"Shut up." Ron said, going red.

Harry shrugged, a little surprised by Ron's touchiness, and let him go up to Aravenne in privacy. If he was going to make a big thing about not telling Harry what it was about, then Harry wouldn't push himself in the way.

If Aravenne was also surprised by Ron waiting behind in order to ask him a question, he hid it well. He raised an enquiring eyebrow, and then his mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. He nodded, and then said, loudly enough for Harry to hear:

"Perhaps you would like to come to my office after your dinner this evening and we can discuss it in more detail then."

Ron nodded, and looked relieved. "Thanks." He walked towards the door and then hesitated, and turned back slightly. Harry barely noticed.

"Is our wandless magic lesson still on tomorrow?" He said a little nervously, the thoughts that had made paying concentration so difficult in class still on his mind.

Aravenne glanced at Ron, and then said slowly. "Certainly, if you feel up to it. That was, as you might have guessed, one of the reasons why I asked you to remain."

"Ron knows about the lessons." Harry said in explanation, as Aravenne continued to study Ron, and Ron went red, hand still in midair, halfway to the door handle.

Aravenne turned back towards Harry. "I imagined so. Was he the one who accompanied you to our first lesson?"

Harry felt his mouth open for a second, and closed it again. He didn't even care to guess how Ron looked.

Aravenne gave a crooked smile, and continued in an amused voice. "I would have been a poor candidate for Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had I been unable to detect a person entering my own room underneath an Invisibility Cloak. Perhaps you two ought to get to your next class, I'm sure Professor Flitwick will wonder if I am giving you private tuition if I keep you any longer."

Ron waited for him at the door, but opened it to show the waiting Slytherins and Ravenclaws before Harry could voice his astonishment. Ron led the way forward at a relatively quick pace.

"I bet Malfoy wanted the final set back a week." He said, carefully timed to coincide with the moment they passed the Slytherin. "Bet he was scared stiff after the weekend, and went begging for an extra week to prepare."

"Come in." Aravenne's voice came from the room behind them.

"What?" Harry asked, as they hurried on their way to Charms.

"That should help stop him claiming that it was only delayed because you were hurt." Ron said smugly.

Harry stopped, and stared at him. "Hermione's _definitely_ having a bad influence on you. You do know that – right?"

Ron blushed slightly. "Well, if you want me to make you a revision table too, don't hold your breath."

Harry gave a mock gasp. "Don't tell me you're making your own ones now? And it's even before Easter!"

Ron gave him what started off as a contemptuous glare before turning into an impish grin. "Maybe next year."

Harry froze once more. He didn't know why, but suddenly the smells and sounds of fighting invaded his senses, and the spectre of the Dark Mark blurred his vision. He squashed the sentence before he could say it, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking it.

_If we and the school are still here next year._

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So how far have you got in the diary then?" Hermione asked intently, as she and Harry sat at one of the tables in the Common Room.

Harry lifted his head from his Potion's essay. He knew most of the Hogwarts staff understood that it is difficult at the very least to complete all of your homework when put under the exceptionally strict supervision of Madam Poppy Pomfrey. He also knew that Professor Severus Snape, was part of the minority, if only when Harry was involved. It was with reasonable irritation, therefore, that Harry replied.

"I – oh – I think… he's just about to get his wand I think."

Hermione looked disappointed. "There's a lot more to go Harry."

"Well not only are you a quicker reader than me, but you haven't let it anywhere near my sight since Dumbledore gave it to me. How about you just give me a summary?"

"Oh you can guess the ending." Hermione dismissed. "Gryffindor and Slytherin fight, Slytherin leaves to do his own thing, leaving his students behind, Pierre starts going out with what's her name–"

"What?" Harry interrupted. "No, I don't think I can guess what's going to happen."

"Oh come on, what did you expect? I wanted to know if you thought- Oh never mind, I'll wait until you've read a bit more."

Harry's mouth opened and closed for a second, and then he replied. "Thanks for that. So yeah, if you'll excuse me, I've got an essay on –" He gave a theatrical stare at the title "– 'The Differing Effects of the Fungal Blooms of Ever-Flowering Snakegrass, when Picked, Stored, and Used in the Various Stages of the Moon'. Now for some weird reason, I didn't manage to start what sounds like a seven hundred page book over the weekend, or even do any research for it, and it might surprise you, but I'm finding it hard enough to do anything to do with it without you asking me questions about something completely irrelevant."

"Harry," Hermione said forcefully, "you can't keep dwelling upon what happened over the weekend."

"What? So I'm meant to just forget I killed somebody, or used the Avada Kedavra curse on a Dementor?" Harry hissed.

"Of course not." Hermione said soothingly. "But you haven't thought of anything else since Saturday night – we can tell, you've been distant to everyone about anything apart from that. You aren't going to help anyone, if you don't calm down, accept it to some extent, and keep your focus upon everything else you are trying to do."

"So what would you rather I do?" Harry snapped. "I can't exactly help feeling like this, you know?"

"I- Oh Harry." Hermione said in controlled frustration, which she quickly tried to turn into a more soothing tone. "Harry, you aren't the only one who's still thinking about that fight you know? Ron's beating himself up as much as-" She stopped and glanced around – beside her, Ginny was bent over parchment, but looked miles away; the rest of the room looked to be paying more interest in their whispered conversation than she was. "Look, how about we go up to the Room of Requirement? Then we won't have to keep whispering, and watching what we say. Do you want to come up with us Ginny?" She added, turning to her right.

She looked up with a jerk. "What?" She asked, with the air of someone who had been lost in thought.

"Want to get out of here?" Harry asked, after a second's pause. He gestured in the general gesture of the rest of the room, some of whom kept glancing in his direction.

Ginny followed his gaze, and stood, trying to give a small smile, but looking more as if she was trying to hide another expression. "Sure." She said.

They exited the room, Harry steadfastly ignoring the stares that followed them, and turned towards the nearest hidden staircase. As they rounded the second corner, they practically walked into Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender.

"Christ, Dean!" Seamus said angrily. "That's a load of bol-"

He stopped speaking suddenly. There was a long second of silence which Harry broke.

"What's up?"

"None of your business Potter." Dean snarled.

"Oh yeah?" Seamus said in a voice filled with disgust. "This idiot thinks that you're going to get us all killed, by causing You-Know-Who to attack Hogwarts."

Harry's face turned stony. Already worked up by the events of the last days, it was all he could do to keep his voice stiff. "I thought we talked about something like that last year, Dean."

"A year ago, I didn't know you went around killing Death Eaters with Unforgivables." Dean said angrily.

"Dean, you arse." Seamus cut in. "I made enough of a prat of myself saying that kind of rubbish for both of us last year."

Dean pushed forward, unnecessarily knocking into both Harry and Ginny, before pausing, and turning to face them again.

"Why don't you two just quit the charade? I just hope he's enough of a _celebrity_ for you Ginny."

There was another protracted awkward silence as Dean walked away, finally broken by a quivering Hermione.

"That is it." She said furiously. "I'll meet up with you two later." She said, looking at Harry and Ginny, and then marched after Dean purposefully.

"Sorry." Seamus muttered. "He's just- He's a bloody-" He trailed off with an embarrassed shrug.

"We'd better go." Padma said quietly. "He doesn't really mean- Well-" She looked at them apologetically, almost close to tears.

"Yeah. Talk to you later." Harry said, trembling slightly, but exactly what emotion was making him do so he couldn't tell.

He and Ginny stood alone there for a couple of seconds, as the other three walked away slowly, talking quietly, and giving them anxious glances. When Harry finally managed to look at Ginny, he found her keeping her eyes averted.

"Are- Are you okay?" He asked, a little throatily.

Ginny nodded, keeping her head looking at the place the wall the other side of Harry joined the floor. "Let's- Just keep going. I don't want to go back in there." Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Ye- Sure." Harry said, nodding.

They walked on amidst an awkward silence, looking anywhere but at each other, even as they closed in on the picture of Barnabas the Barmy.

"I'll do it." Ginny muttered, the first words either of them had said on the walk which seemed to have taken ten times as long as normal.

She walked past the entrance three times, and a door appeared. As she opened it, her face flushed a deep red, and over her shoulder, Harry saw a facsimile of the Burrow's living room.

"I'm sorry." She stammered. "I didn't mean to-" She reached for the handle, as though to close the door again.

"Don't be." Harry said immediately. "Your house is one of my favourite places in the world to be in."

If anything, Ginny went a deeper shade of crimson.

Another silence developed, and Ginny took a couple of hesitant steps into the room, looking around.

"Look," Harry said, "if it's about what Dean said-"

"No." Ginny said, shaking her head viciously.

_If it's about what Dean said, then… what?_

On top of all his other feelings, Harry was hit by a nervous pang in his stomach. Honestly, he didn't think he had had the remotest romantic thought in the past year. He hadn't really had a chance to. Not even after Hermione had told him of Dean's jealousy had he actually thought seriously about anything along that line, and certainly not about someone he cared about as much as his friends.

"Well, ye- n- I don't know!" Ginny burst out. "I don't know." She repeated softly.

_What was he thinking? He couldn't think romantically about someone he cared about?_

He vaguely noticed his heart hammering in his chest, as though he was on the verge of reaching for the Snitch, or fighting for his life. Had he been sending unconscious signs? What did Ginny expect? What did she _want_? For that matter, what did he want? He realised he had been silent for a number of seconds, and tried to think of the right thing to say.

"Have a seat?" He suggested.

Ginny made eye contact for what felt like the first time, with a nervous glance.

"Um, maybe you just wanted to feel like you were somewhere you knew well?"

Ginny forced a small smile, and Harry found himself notice her chest moving as she took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders, and marched over to her favourite chair – a comfortable one and a half-seater, which threatened to suck you up and swallow you if you curled up with your legs underneath you – coincidently one of Ginny's favourite positions.

"Well, you don't need me to offer you a seat in the Burrow." Ginny said in a small voice. "You know Mum would probably adopt you if she could."

Harry took a seat on the settee opposite her, not sure what to say or do. He felt the schoolbag he had forgotten about push into his back, and squirmed away, tossing it over the armrest. He opened his mouth to speak, but words wouldn't come, so he shut it again. Ginny noticed, and she turned her head to avoid his eyes once more.

Slowly, each word pronounced deliberately inflectionless, and carefully carelessly, Ginny turned his own question back to him. "Did what Dean say – Are you okay?"

"I-" Harry stopped. _I haven't the foggiest._ "Wait a minute – I asked you first!"

Ginny managed a nervy giggle, and remained dark red. "I think I'm completely screwed up." She muttered.

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. He stifled it immediately, but Ginny looked up. Harry looked away before he could see her expression.

"I'm sorry-" Harry said, blushing, "-it's just, the amount of times I've thought that. About me!" He added hurriedly. "I mean."

Ginny giggled again. "I know what you mean."

"Well maybe we can just be screwed up together?" Harry suggested.

"Let's." Ginny said softly, and fell silent again; a little of the tension eased.

"Snape was right, wasn't he?" She asked suddenly, switching tack. "Fred too. Not about you, Ron and Hermione, but about me. About me being no use. All I did was nearly get you killed saving me again, because I couldn't fight the Dementors."

"That's not true!" Harry said immediately; reflexively.

"So I carried a kid under your Invisibility Cloak." Ginny said. "What else did I do that was any help? My Patronus was useless; it didn't do a thing to stop the Dementors. It would have killed me if it wasn't for you. I saw it Harry – I saw what's underneath their cloaks." She shuddered, and her quavering voice couldn't go on.

"Hermione couldn't hold them off either." Harry reminded her gently.

Ginny shook her head. "At least she put up a fight. And it was her idea about Ron's Patronus. With me it was one hit from the Dementor, and then rememb-" Her voice left her again, and she looked away once more. "I was useless." She managed.

"Ginny," Harry said, and paused, "I tried to cast a Patronus at it when it reached towards Hermione. All I produced was white gas. Katie says that they only learnt that charm before Christmas, and she's in her N.E.W.T. year."

"You could cast it in your third year." Ginny pointed out.

"After endless lessons with Moony, and even then, only because, well it was a freak. I only did it because I knew I had already done it." Harry said, urgently. "The time-turner." He paused, shaking his head, wondering what else he could say.

"Moony told me that – the first time I asked him why they- why Dementors affected me worse than other people – he told me it wasn't because I was weak, or useless. It's the same with you. He told me-" He took a deep breath; Ginny was looking away again. "He said that I found it harder because- because I had more bad memories than other people." He lowered his voice, and spoke at the floor.

"When I'm around them, Dementors, I hear, sometimes I see- I see Voldemort killing my parents." His voice started to choke, but he fought through it. "I know what it's like Ginny. I've had the Nightmares too. It's not because we're weak – it's not. Look at me! One moment I can't cast a Patronus, the next I'm Harry-the-Dementor-Slayer."

Ginny hiccoughed. "That's four times I've nearly died, and you saved me."

"Four? The Quidditch match doesn't count." Harry said immediately. "Nor does Riddle's diary. It's not like you could have done anything about it. And the attack on Madam Puddifoot's – it's not as if you made Lestrange threaten you; and if you hadn't stopped the Dementors for as long as you had we'd all have been dead."

"They count Harry. You could have died." Her voice broke again. "You could have died each time, because you were trying to save me. I don't want that to ever happen again. If there's a next time – I'm saving you."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, and then asked quietly. "Is that what's been bothering you? Not Dean, but the Dementors? Because – well – look at the woman whose child Dumbledore saved; she couldn't do a thing! You were in the middle of it, fighting with us, keeping them back. And- And I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there at the Ministry when I-"

"I just talked to you Harry." Ginny told him, looking at him with bright eyes. And I'd do that anytime, about anything. If you ever need to talk, I will be here, I promise."

Harry shook his head. "Judging by Dean I just mess things up for you. I'm sorry."

"_You_ don't have to apologise because Dean is, Dean is, well, jealous, suspicious, and has an overactive imagination." Ginny said with feeling. "Besides, I think I'm going to start doing things differently." She said resolutely, and then paused. "Is _that_ what's bothering you, Harry, what Dean said?"

"What do you mean, 'do things differently'?" Harry asked.

"Don't avoid the question." Ginny said sternly, as though gained in strength. "Is what Dean said bothering you?"

"I never knew someone could look so strict while lying down in that chair." Harry said in an attempt both at levity, and to skirt around the question.

Ginny's mouth twitched. "Answer the question Harry. I said I'll always be here to listen, and I meant it. I don't care what about, even- even about girls." She half grimaced. "Don't worry, I think I got over my crush years ago."

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "Honestly, I haven't got a clue. I told you I was just as screwed up. I don't know what to think about anything anymore. I guess at the moment all I think about is how to learn enough magic to stand a chance a bit better against Voldemort than the Chudley Cannons have of winning the league.

"I mean, I _know_ I need to read Moreau's diary – but then if I try, I worry about other things: like, I dunno, wandless magic, that Dementor, and…"

"And?" Ginny slipped her legs back onto the floor.

Harry hesitated twice. "Well… I still can't do the Occlumency properly. I'm going to fight Voldemort again – I guess that's pretty much inevitable – and if he tried to look in my head right now, he'd see these big signs telling him where to go to get what he wants to know."

Ginny screwed up her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I… Um… I don't know if I can show you or not. Hold on, maybe the room… Oh, you'd better get up."

Harry stood himself, and closed his eyes tightly, chanting internally. _I need to show Ginny my Occlumency Refuge. I need-_

He opened his eyes as Ginny gasped. "Why-" She trembled. "Why are we here?"

The Archway stood between them – curtain blown so hard, that it was flying perpendicularly to its host. Harry sidestepped, and walked past the dais in order to stand beside Ginny. He gestured around.

"This- This is my Occlumency. This is where I store my memories, and try to stop Voldemort finding them out." He pointed out a sign above one of the upper doorways in front of them. Written in big, bold letters, was the word: 'Happiness'. "And that, is the problem."

"Oh." Ginny said, looking completely confused. "Well, why don't you replace it with something else?"

"That's the thing. _I _have to know what it means without my enemies knowing."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't try to think of happiness, or something that makes you happy; but something that reminds you of it instead. How do you do your Patronus?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't exactly put a memory up there, that would defeat the-" Harry stopped mid-sentence and stared at Ginny. "Hang on. Ginny – you are a genius."

"I know." Ginny told him. "If only Professor McGonagall agreed with you."

Harry, however, had shut his eyes once more, and was only half listening. A sound of surprise from Ginny beside him told him that the word had vanished. He half opened an eye, and looked at the door. Burnt onto the wood, was the wand motion of the Patronus spell. He stared, in half disbelief, and then the room from the Department of Mysteries vanished. He and Ginny were standing once more in the middle of the Burrow. Harry reached forward reflexively to steady Ginny as she stumbled slightly.

Ginny's cheeks, which had returned to normal, turned slightly pink once more at the contact. "Harry," she asked, after the momentary pause, "what exactly just happened? Why were we in that room – the Arch room?"

"I told you," Harry said, almost falling back onto the settee, head feeling slight giddy, "that's where I store my memories."

Ginny gave him a piercing stare, and then sat down too, this time beside him. "I'm not going to pretend I have more than the faintest clue as to what you're talking about, but what I mean is – why there?" Her voice shook slightly. "Why the room Sirius died in?"

Harry was the one to break eye contact this time; he had been unexpectedly hit by a stab of unhappiness he hadn't felt for months. "I can't explain it. It's just the right place; I know it is – I can feel it. Dumbledore seemed to think it was okay." He added, almost defensively.

He could still feel Ginny's eyes fixing upon him. "You're allowed to miss him you know. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I know." Harry said, a little shortly. He shook his head, and tried to lighten his voice. "How did we end up talking about that? You still haven't asked my question about Dean, or whether it was the Dementors that upset you."

"Nor did you." Ginny pointed out with a small smile.

"I asked first." Harry grinned, and some of the tension left the room once more.

Ginny gave him a long look, and sighed.

"It's just. Well, you know what I was like when we first met." The blush raced back into her face. "I bet Ron told you, but… I used to send Errol with letters to you almost every day from when I was six until I was nine. They used to come back unopened, and Errol was always exhausted, and Mum had to stop me from sending him out again. Ron and the twins always claim it was that that wore him out."

"They didn't tell me." Harry said quietly, feeling uncertain as to where the conversation was twisting. "Do you think Dumbledore stopped them?"

"Took out the fan mail you mean?" Ginny said, managing to giggle slightly. "But, no, what I mean is-" she avoided his eyes again – they seemed to have spent most of the time they had had together looking anywhere else. "I meant what I said in the Arch room Harry: in Snape's trial. You're far more amazing than the Harry I had a crush on then."

Harry turned as red as Ginny, and completely lost the ability to talk. Part of his mind seemed to know where this was going, and the other half didn't have a clue. His head filled with half formed sentences, and uncompleted questions.

"I'm not making much sense, am I?" Ginny said in a small voice. "I told you I was screwed up."

"I-" Harry began, "um…" _Brilliant, Harry. Talk about inspirational._

Ginny drew in a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm trying to figure out whether-" She finished in a rush, "-whether what I feel is some of that crush, or if it's… something else."

Harry looked at her, her bright red face still averted in mortification.

"So – the last few years – Michael Corner, and… Dean…" Harry began, trying to think straight.

"I liked them – I _like_ them – but," Ginny jumped in, "well, Michael was such a bad loser, and Dean was so possessive, and… and…" Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked back up at him. "I couldn't leave him after what happened in the summer.

"But… But…" Ginny stammered, looking back away just as quickly. "Do you- Have you-"

She lowered her voice to the merest whisper. "I think I love you, Harry."

Harry gulped, and remained incapable of speech.

"Well, at least you didn't run away." Ginny tried to laugh through the droplets that sprinkled her face.

Harry desperately tried to think of two words to put together, but he failed, and nearly panicked as he saw Ginny's blush turn into one of mortification.

"Um… forget about it." She started to stand up.

"No, wait!" Harry said, grasping her arm. "Ginny, I…" He cursed his slowly working brain internally. "Ginny, I like you… I _really_ like you, you're a wonderful person-"

"But-" Ginny said, choked with emotion, "But you like me just as a friend?"

"Yes – no! That's not what I mean. It's just – I don't know what I should feel like- I don't- The only time I thought I even fancied someone I was really- I was way off, and-"

Ginny allowed Harry to pull her back down to the couch as he struggled for words, but, rather than sitting down beside him, she gracefully moved onto his knee, bringing her mouth towards his.

Harry was momentarily unable to do anything apart from watch Ginny's face descend towards his. He could smell a gentle hint of peach from her lip gloss. Their lips met in a gentle brush, which ended as soon as Harry started to respond. He reached out the couple of centimetres to reunite the kiss.

_Is this love?_ Harry managed to ask himself, as he basked in the moment. The sensations took him somewhere he had never been before, and somewhere he was determined to return to.

Ginny drew back gently. "Did that help?"

She looked positively radiant to Harry.

"I'm still speechless." Harry murmured.

Ginny didn't giggle this time, but rather laughed. "Was it that bad?" She teased, leaning forwards once more.

There, in their embrace, Harry realised where the sensations were taking him. He was wrong, it _was_ somewhere he had been before. It was something that for years he had not known he was missing. Where they had been going, was to a place where he belonged; a place where he could call home.

In that moment of bliss, he was hit by a pain of fear and drew back.

"I- I can't." He whispered, in what felt like a devastated voice.

He felt Ginny retreat, not only in body but in soul. Before Harry knew it, she was on her feet, backing away, a mixture of horror and humiliation on her face. "You can't?" She asked in a voice that was filled by bolts of pain. "What? Am I-?"

"No!" Harry said quickly, jumping to his feet. "No – Ginny – that's not what I mean. It's just…"

"Just what?" Ginny said thickly.

"Ginny," Harry said in a voice that was half pleading, "don't you see? Voldemort goes after people I love, or people who love me. I've lo-"

"Ginny? Harry?" Hermione's voice said from the door.

Ginny turned and fled, sobbing.

"Ginny!" Harry called out, and took a couple of steps forwards.

"Damn you, Harry!" Ginny cried, as she exited the door.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled again, and pushed past Hermione to the door, but by the time he reached the hallway, Ginny was out of sight.

He swivelled, and with an anger and frustration that he had to get rid of somehow, turned upon the only person he could. "Damn it Hermione! Why did you have to come in then?"

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked by reflex. "What did you do?"

"None of your business." Harry retorted angrily, and turned right at the corridor, calling Ginny's name again.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry sat alone in the common room, dried quill laid down beside his untouched Potions' work. The scraps of paper that were now embers in the dying fire had had no relevance to work. He gazed into it, trying to move his body to stand up in order to feed it, as he had done since the last Gryffindor had gone to bed. Well, the last apart from two: Harry Potter, and Ginny Weasley. By the time Harry had thought to track Ginny with the Marauders' Map, he had also calmed down enough to realise that he didn't have a clue what he might say, and to feel as though to use it would make him dirty in some way.

He looked down at the latest scrunched up parchment beside his homework, and listlessly tossed it into the fireplace with the others. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, trying to work out what to say, what he felt, what he might do. He had tried writing words down, not as a letter, or explanation of sorts to Ginny, but just trying to help himself find those right things to say. He watched the ink burn through the back of the paper, and imagined some of the words that had adorned it. All the reasons he shouldn't have said anything, and all the reasons he should. One of the lines from that damned Prophecy, which played on his mind the more he thought about it, the words tangling themselves up in his head, and creating more problems than he had ever considered before.

_Neither can live while the other survives._

He was a weapon, a tool. That's all he could be until he destroyed Voldemort. Dumbledore may have said that not all Prophecies come to fruition, but surely this part of it had, just like the part that said he had the power to defeat Voldemort. Even if it wasn't he who did the final deed, it still meant he would have no 'life' until Voldemort was no more. And, in an unusually morose turn of mind, he felt that had pretty much been the case so far, hadn't it? His time at the Dursleys could hardly have been called a life, and each time he thought he had found a home, something had taken it away from him again. It seemed obvious to him – he couldn't live – he couldn't _love_ – until Voldemort was no more.

Too many people had died because they loved him: his parents, Sirius, it was a wonder the Weasleys were all still alive with the amount of near death experiences they had had because of him. He would not let Ginny join them. Even if what he had thought he felt earlier was a lie, he wasn't taking that risk. Ginny may have told him he had saved her life four times, but the simple fact was that she wouldn't have been in danger in all bar the Quidditch match if it weren't for him. Hell, maybe that could be traced back to him too. He felt the bitter irony that the feelings their brief intimacy had evoked in him were the same ones that meant he couldn't feel them again. Not until Voldemort was gone.

He must have dozed, head in his hand, for suddenly Ron was standing beside him, shaking his shoulder, and the fire was white ashes.

"What's the ma-" Ron began, but shook his head. "Look, you don't have to say anything, but you should get up to bed at least."

"Huh?" Harry said blearily, looking down at the table reflexively. The last parchment he had written upon was long burnt.

Ron looked at the blank parchment in front of Harry, and the essay title to its side.

"Screw Snape." He told Harry. "Get up to bed. If Snape can't accept that nearly dying is a good enough excuse to not do your homework, then I can't wait to see McGonagall rip into him. You look like crap, get to bed."

"What are you doing up?" Harry asked, trying to clear his head.

"I talked to Hermione 'til late." Ron said. "And I woke up, and you still weren't there, so… There's loads of time to talk in the morning."

As Harry looked up at the ceiling above his four poster bed, he couldn't help but notice the lack of Ron's usual snores too. He didn't know what was going through the red-haired's head, but his were full of thoughts of his friend's sister, and unpleasant fates.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

If somebody had asked Harry what had happened during the day, as he walked up to his wandless magic lesson the next evening, he couldn't have given them a straight answer. He wasn't sure what classes he had had, let alone anything else. He vaguely remembered losing his temper with Hermione in the morning, and yelling at both her and Ron that he hadn't interfered with their relationship; and he was painfully aware of the fact that he had not seen Ginny all day. When he had finally given into temptation and looked for her on the Marauder's Map, her dot had been in the Hospital Wing.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson had involved something concerning teams, but Harry was hard pressed to remember what, or if he had even done anything. As for Snape's class, well, not only could Harry not remember whether they did a practical or a theoretical lesson, but he just had a vague recollection of Hermione saying something to Snape, a lot of unintelligible words directed towards him, and a final command to go to the Hospital Wing if he was still too ill to work, rather than wasting Snape's and the rest of the class's time.

Not only did he look, and feel, as though he hadn't slept the night before (which he hadn't), but he was filled with a guilt so deep, that he wanted to reach inside his head and pull it out. In fact, if he had been feeling less of a zombie, he might have ended up acting like a mental asylum patient in the moments he was alone. It was as though those few moments with Ginny had released all the fear and tension that he had held inside, not only since he had used the Avada Kedavra curse, but also from well into the previous summer. For one short moment he had had someone to share his burdens, and then, as he started to risk feeling them, that person was gone, not because he had been abandoned, but because he couldn't risk hurting her.

"This isn't going to work." Aravenne said crisply.

Harry had barely noticed he had entered Aravenne's office.

"But, yesterday, you sai-"

"Yesterday I thought you could control your mind enough to concentrate upon something you have shown you believe to be vital." Aravenne interrupted. "You are still thinking about the weekend, and having used the Avada Kedavra curse. I've never seen your wandwork as poor as it was today."

"Professor Dumbledore said-" Harry began to argue, not even thinking of contradicting the statement that he had used the Avada Kedavra curse.

"A Muggle could use the Abramites." Aravenne said, with a bite to his voice. "They don't work like wands; they don't act as a conduit for your magic, they have their own. They react to the movement, and intention, nothing more. Your magic may be weaker, but it had nothing to do with your spells today. You are dwelling, and you are easy pickings for anyone who may wish to harm you."

Harry felt a surge of anger swell through him. What did Aravenne know about what he was feeling? Did he think Harry was simply worried about having killed the Dementor? He felt an emotional surge build inside his veins, and a flash of light split his vision. A crash of thunder sounded, and gleaming white light shot towards the Professor standing a few feet away from him. A second later Harry was flung back into the wall behind him, not seriously hurt, but with the breath knocked out of him. As he was pinned there, Harry vaguely noticed that the bookcase that should have been there, wasn't.

His head pounded, and the blood rushed to his temples. He felt the build up of energy inside him once more, and felt the beginnings of a gleam of green light in the corner of his eye.

_What was he doing?_

"Lumos." He choked out, trying to force the light into a white blob.

Suddenly he could move again, and his whole body gleamed silver. He fell to his knees and panted.

"Nox." Aravenne's voice said calmly, and Harry stopped glowing.

He remained on all fours, gasping for air.

"Slow your breathing." Aravenne said gently. "You'll hyperventilate."

Harry tried to do so, glancing at the Professor momentarily. Aravenne had one foot forward, as though he had thought of reaching to grab Harry but then had thought better of it. He looked down again, still gasping, as though each exhale was releasing some of the pain he felt, and each inhale was bringing it back again.

"You were strong." Aravenne told him, his voice firm, with no room for argument. "You controlled your magic. Remember that. Now breathe slowly – in through your nose, and out through your mouth. I would rather not use a cheering charm; that would hurt rather than help you."

"Why?" Harry choked out.

"You killed a creature Harry, one that has destroyed the lives of many, and whose very nature is to destroy as many as it can. You used an Unforgivable curse, and you removed the abomination from this world. You may have also killed Death Eaters, real humans. People who were desperately trying to torture and kill as many people as they could. And what do you do?" Aravenne snapped. "You torture yourself for doing those things. That is weakness, and that could end up killing you."

"How would you know what I feel? What makes you think I even care about having used the- that curse?"

"I have killed people." Aravenne said, an angry bitterness in his voice. "Avada Kedavra is so clean, isn't it? So sterile. You point your wand, you say a few words, and… Nothing. The man, or woman – or Dementor – is dead. What you are doing to yourself is far more messy and far more painful."

"You don't have a clue what I feel!" Harry yelled in rage, finding himself reaching for his wand just moments after preventing himself from attacking the man before him.

"Don't I? You have seen yourself kill, and you know it could have been your friends that died, some of the people closest to you. You think you could have failed them, or even doomed them. You don't care about the creatures that died – and I use that term loosely – not really. You think you should do, perhaps, but that is not what is stopping you from thinking, from taking control of your actions. Am I right?" Aravenne challenged.

Harry found himself taking deep breaths – he was not sure when the moment between gasping for air, and controlling his breathing, and anger, had taken place, but he made use of it now.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, managing to regain a semblance of calmness.

Aravenne seemed firstly taken aback, and then amused by the question. "Me? I am nobody special. Perhaps I am merely someone that knows both more, and less than you think I do." He gave a loud bark of a laugh, as if he found something amusing.

"That didn't answer my question." Harry said, wary of this side of Aravenne that he had never seen, or even imagined of before.

Aravenne gave a single laugh again. "What makes you think I am special in some way? I am simply a wizard who has more than his fair share of luck, both good and bad, and does his best to pay attention to the world around him. I am Syde Aravenne.

"Why do you think this 'Dark Lord' attacked Hogsmeade, Harry, truly?" Aravenne asked. "Do you think it was simply to distract the Aurors? Did he really have to assault Hogsmeade, and then Hogwarts itself, so close to each other, as a mere distraction?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Why do you think he attacked a school in Surrey, Harry? A school where your cousin just happens to attend? Coincidence? What about the first attack in Hogsmeade? The attack at the Ministry ceremony, when you just happened to be the guest of honour?"

"He wants to kill me." Harry said through gritted teeth. "I thought that was obvious pretty much all my life."

"Kill you?" Aravenne said. "Do you think it is that simple? Don't you think he'd have been there himself in these fights if his intention was to kill you?"

Harry said nothing, but pushed himself back to his feet.

"When you vanquished him as a mere baby; when your parents died, it is obvious that charms must have been put there to shield you from further attacks. The- You-Know-Who has always tried to reach immortality; the danger was too great that he might have succeeded to just assume he had gone. Maybe not for the wizard on the street, but for those in power, it must have been. You're good Harry, you're an outstanding duellist for your age, but no-one escapes as often and as dramatically as you have done with so little obvious protection, especially when they were as young as you were."

"So what are you saying?" Harry asked, his hand grasping his wand tightly.

"There are charms protecting you from him, maybe – probably – cast by Headmaster Dumbledore. Charms so strong that a wizard who considers himself the strongest in the world cannot best you. Is it not obvious, Harry? The attack on Hogsmeade? It wasn't merely a distraction; first and foremost, it was a test: one meant for you, and whatever the protection is that surrounds you and your cousin, and presumably your family."

"You think he's testing me?" Harry managed. "_Voldemort_? No-" He continued, as he thought he saw scorn on Aravenne's face. "No, I get what you mean, or why you're saying it, but…" _Of course he must think I'm a threat, that's the whole thing about these Scrivenings, isn't it? _"Look, I'm sixt-" Harry took a deep breath, and left the words unspoken. "Why are you telling me this, why did you… try to provoke me? Why-"

"That's better." Aravenne answered. "You are thinking again. You had lost your head and you needed to be snapped out of it. Preferably by someone you didn't completely trust," he said wryly, "not to mention someone who wouldn't try to kill you."

"But-" Harry said, confused.

There was a tone in Aravenne's voice that Harry didn't understand, one that suggested that he had some inside information that he, Harry, didn't. "You needed a shock to pull yourself out of your state of mind. Different people have different strengths, Harry, and when you feel in turmoil, you have to find, or be shown, the one that is yours above all. One of your strengths happens to be your resilience."

"But my wandless magic, it could have, I could have killed you." Harry protested.

Aravenne shook his head. "If you were able to produce the Avada Kedavra curse wandlessly just days after what you went through, you would be one of the strongest fully grown wizards alive. Besides," he smiled disarmingly, "I was not completely unprepared for that possibility either."

A thick piece of wood levitated into the air, whipping in between the two of them in a time that took less than a second.

"I do not wish the Dark Lord to emerge victorious as our conqueror any more than anyone else. I am not stupid, Harry, you are important in the fight against him. How much I do not know, but you are important enough for him to try to sound you, your strengths, and your weaknesses, out. Teaching you to fight, and stay alive, takes upon even more importance as a result."

"Who are you?" Harry asked again.

Aravenne looked him up and down. "Sit down." He said with a flicker of concern. "There can be no way you are recovered enough from the past few days to stand here so brazenly." He shook his head. "There's also no way you can be in a frame of mind to work upon our lesson."

"Who are you?" Harry repeated. "You're not just a Slytherin who knows things. You're not even a Slytherin, are you?"

Aravenne looked at him slowly. "I am afraid I am Harry. I sat on that chair in front of the school, as you did, and I put on the Sorting Hat, and I was sorted into Slytherin, as I said."

"Then why aren't you in any records?" Harry burst out.

There was silence. Aravenne was staring so intently at Harry, he could have been looking through him. "Sit." He said.

Harry did so.

Aravenne took a couple of steps backwards, and leaned upon his desk for support. For a moment, he looked completely lacking in composure, and poise. For the first time Harry had ever seen, Aravenne looked unsure.

"What makes you say that?" Aravenne asked at length.

"Hermione checked the records." Harry challenged. "There is no Aravenne, there hasn't been ever as far as she could see, and definitely not when Lestrange was in school. You lied about that, didn't you? How did you really know him?"

Aravenne nodded slightly, and glanced around the room, as though absorbing every word Harry said. He gave a strange sound, as though both amused, and disgusted.

"And thus the problem of volunteering personal information." He said in a tone of sickened regret. "My name _is_ Syde Aravenne, Harry, and I did indeed attend Hogwarts – my house _was_ Slytherin. As for why you haven't been able to find me in the records…" He shook his head. "That part of my life is over. Either you take my word for it or you don't. In the end, does it matter?"

"What do you mean does it matter? Of course it-" Harry began in a mixture of disbelief and incomprehension.

"Have I ever hurt you Harry?" Aravenne asked. "Ever tried to harm you in any way? Have I done anything that has not been made in an effort to improve your skills, or hone your abilities? What does the ancient past matter? It is the now that we live in, and the future we should live for. You decided to trust me when we began these lessons, did you not?"

"But then I didn't know that… Something happened didn't it? How can I trust someone who-"

"Yes something happened." Aravenne snapped, composure gone completely. "I lost my family, in more ways than one. My past is not one I have any intention of reliving."

Aravenne turned, and swept papers out of the way, reaching for a black bag which Harry knew contained a larger box, contained velvet lining within. He flipped the lid to reveal the Abramites, and reached for one, playing with it his hand, back turned to Harry, and features completely averted. Harry had a vague feeling that the scene would feel like it made more sense to him if their roles were reversed. He sat in the chair, unsure whether to leave, or say anything. For a few seconds his eyes were drawn to the practice wand, as it twirled in lightning speeds like a baton, from one finger to another, and another, before ending up behind the first.

"You may leave, Mr Potter." Aravenne said, in a voice suddenly controlled and formal. "You need not continue our sessions if you do not wish, nor need you make up your mind now. I shall regret the chance to aid you and your wandless magic; indeed, you have shown today that you have benefited from it, but if you are unable to trust me, then it is your decision."

"I've had a really bad couple of days." Harry said eventually, not having moved to leave.

Aravenne half-sighed, half-snorted, with ironic laughter. "Yes, I should imagine you have had it worse than most of us, and I believe the whole school has felt the stress to some extent."

Harry continued to sit where he was. He didn't know whether he trusted the man or not, but, almost unbelievably, not only was he veering towards the former, but he was also feeling more at ease with himself than he had for the rest of the day.

"What did you mean when you said a Muggle could use the Abramites?" He said ultimately, still watching the spinning practice wand.

Aravenne turned to face him once more, Abramite in his hand. "Exactly what I said." He replied, voice sounding once more perfectly in control. He smiled in ironic amusement. "I have heard tales of a Squib performing amazing magical tricks to a Muggle audience which they could not understand. The story goes that his brother provided him with an Abramite.

"Abramites are like any other magical object which runs from its own source of magical energy. Some wizards charm doorknobs to bite Muggles' hands off, for example, Muggle-baiting, they call it. An Abramite is similar in some respects. However, an Abramite's energy gets used up far more quickly, and has to be replenished."

"Replenished?"

"From another source of magical energy of course; in general, when it comes to Abramites, from people."

"People?" Harry asked, feeling a little repelled.

"Of course. Fortunately they do not often need to be recharged, but it can become quite draining when they do." His mouth twitched. "That is one of the reasons I was so sure you would not feel strong enough to cast a wandless spell of too much power. I know what it is to feel magically drained."

"What? You mean these wands we use are powered by your magical power?" Harry asked in shock. "You take magic out of your own body to-"

Aravenne shook with silent mirth. "Of course, I would hardly expect another person to supply my classes with their magical strength; I wouldn't be averse to the occasional trip to a Death Eater holding cell however. Humans are remarkably resilient; magical strength returns quickly, just as yours will. It could be argued that consistent supplying of Abramites with magical energy behaves in a similar way to lifting weights in order to strengthen muscles."

"How do you-" Harry left the question unfinished.

The wand stopped dancing abruptly, and pointed towards Aravenne's right forearm, the tip of the wand pushing into the skin. "You point the tip of your Abramite firmly in your body, say the incantations and…" Aravenne flicked the Abramite away from his arm with a motion enviable in its simplicity, and begun to twirl it once more.

Harry stared at his teacher for a few seconds. "The wandless magic lessons have really helped me." He admitted at last. "I don't really want to stop them."

"Then we shan't." Aravenne said, smiling in what could have been relief. "However I meant what I said, you are not currently in a state in which we should continue today." He held up a hand before Harry could say anything, and the wand stopped moving. "Mentally you are far more stable than when you entered, but stressing your body magically at this point in time would be foolish. In truth, I was more interested in your state of mind, and raising your awareness of why You-Know-Who may have made the attack in the first place, than in forcing you through difficult mental and magical work."

He chuckled. "Saying all that in the middle of a classroom, however, would not have been advisable. Take my advice, and get an early night's sleep tonight, try to work through any of your problems, or fears that might be haunting you, but do not let them control you. Remember that you are the one in control of them: they cannot exist without you, but you are quite able to live without them. Above all, do not expect too much: as you feel stronger physically, you will feel stronger mentally."

Harry glanced back as he left Aravenne's office, and paused. Aravenne had his back turned to him, and the Abramite back in its position pointing towards his right arm. Aravenne's body expanded, as though breathing in deeply, and then shuddered, as Harry gently pulled the door closed.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Ron and Hermione were talking earnestly with each other in front of the portrait hole as Harry finished the walk back to the tower. He had taken it slowly, trying to work everything through in his head one piece at a time, trying to compartmentalise his thoughts so that they didn't fight each other, as Dumbledore had instructed him to, and trying not to let his fears about Ginny, or Voldemort take control once more, as Aravenne had said.

Ron and Hermione had looked up as he approached, and Harry saw Ron say something to Hermione. She looked reluctant, but nodded, and the portrait hole opened to admit her. Ron walked towards Harry.

"Harry, mate. I've got a problem." Ron began, walking towards him.

"What?" Harry asked, made wary by Hermione's exit.

"Well, it's simple. Generally if someone made my sister feel like she's feeling at the moment, I'd forget about magic, and beat them to a bloody pulp."

"Ron," Harry began, firing up, "how about you keep your-"

"But the problem is," Ron continued, speaking over Harry, "that if someone made my best mate act like you've been all day, I'd probably do the same."

Harry shut up.

"So, I've got a problem." Ron told him. "I'm not going to go and beat my best mate up, and certainly not my little sister, so what do I do?"

"How about leaving us both alone, and letting us sort it out, then?" Harry suggested, in a measured tone.

"Yeah, well there's a problem with that, too." Ron replied, as though he had already rehearsed the conversation.

"Which is?" Harry sighed; might as well let Ron get it over and done with.

"Well, you're nearly as good as I am at saying the wrong thing." Ron told him smartly.

"Very funny." Harry scowled. "So what little plan have you and Hermione come up with then?"

"Well, how about you at least try talking to Hermione, and explaining how you feel to her, so you don't mess it up with my sister, and make you and Ginny feel worse? And I'll even be there and gag her if she starts to lecture you if you want."

"Oh yeah?" Harry scoffed. "And how you planning to do that?"

"Oh, I have my ways." Ron smirked.

"Ah- Ah damn Ron, I really didn't want that image. Ginny might be your sister, but Hermione's pretty much the closest I have to one you know. I really don't want to know what you two do in- God Ron!" Harry winced. "Look, it's none of yours or Hermione's business how I feel about Ginny, or how I feel, so-"

"Hey, I'm not saying tell us everything. Merlin I think I want to hear about that less than you would about me and Hermione, but you explain some of it to Hermione, she explains it to Ginny without you two losing your heads, and everyone's happy, right?"

"It's not something you or Hermione can just sit down and tell Ginny, Ron." Harry told him forcefully. "I don't think it's something I can even explain to anyone, and definitely not to anyone other than Ginny."

Ron looked Harry up and down seriously. "You love her don't you mate? My little sister; you really do love her. Merlin, man, tell her, you know how she's always felt-"

"I tell her anything like that before Voldemort's gone, then she'll die Ron. I'm not letting that happen. Look, just leave me alone about this, okay."

"Okay." Ron said after a long silence. "I won't bug you to talk to Hermione after this either, I promise, but you can't expect me or Hermione not to worry about you two; and you know that if Hermione makes up her mind about something, then there's nothing I can do. Look, if it's really what you want, I won't talk about it any more. But _you_ have to do something."

* * *

_A/N: Well, there we go - you all knew something to do with relationships would rear its ugly head, and it has. Hope it's worked. For those who like Harry to be a superhero without any faults, sorry. ::shrugs:: I'm just an evil git who loves putting Harry in situations where his natural gifts shine the dimmest. Of course, this is by no means the end of it, but perhaps you'll believe me now when I say I'm not going into long lengthy 'shippy' writing... :P_

_I'd just like to take this opportunity to say... ... :_

_Trying to snap people out of 'depression' (such a wide encompassing, over-used word) ala Aravenne doesn't always work quite like it did in this chapter. Aravenne's actions should only be performed under strict literary supervision. Please kids, don't try this at home. Etc. Well, you know what I mean, just... don't think I endorse yelling at people who are depressed in an effort to 'snap them out of it'._

_And on that note... Au revoir! Or... A bientot. Doesn't one of them suggest I'll be back quicker or something?_

_ATB_

_P.S. Nit picking as to accents on vowels in Author's Notes is not appreciated... French was always my worst language, and I can't be bothered trawling through Microsoft's character map to find the correct accents! :P_


	29. Changes of Perspective

**Chapter 29: Changes of Perspective**

"Can anyone explain to me the fundamental difference between a one-way Portkey, and a two-way Portkey?" Professor Flitwick squeaked from on top of his stool.

Nobody's hand went up; it sounded like one of those questions designed to hook you into making a stupid answer: not something Flitwick was particularly known for, but something all the students were aware of nonetheless. Hermione – who could usually be counted on to give the not so obvious – correct – answer – barely looked as though she was paying attention to the class. She kept shooting glances towards Harry, as though she were trying to read his state of mind like she usually read her Charms textbook, and as a result, the year's usual saviour when it came to teachers' questions wasn't there to help them this time.

"Nobody?" Flitwick said in a high pitched tone of disappointment.

Ernie McMillan raised his hand almost reluctantly. "Two-way Portkeys are only ever able to go to two destinations, and only in order?"

"Correct." Flitwick agreed. "A two-way Portkey's next direction is always the one it last came from. Not only is this unchangeable, but there is no easy way of discovering where a Portkey of this kind will take you before actually using it.

"Now, why does this differ from one-way Portkeys?"

Of all people, Ron kicked Hermione under the table, in an attempt to return her attention to the class and answer the question. Harry was really beginning to get irritated with her. While Ron had promised not to raise the subject of Ginny and Harry again – and held to it – Hermione had attempted to bring it into discussions on numerous occasions, and judging by the fact Ginny seemed to have told her as little as Harry, it was becoming quickly apparent that Hermione disliked not being in the know.

It was Lavender who put her hand up this time, in an attempt to bail out the class. "Um- Is it because a one-way Portkey has no way of going back to a previous destination?" She suggested.

"You might think so, but no." Flitwick squeaked. "A one-way Portkey's previous destinations can be discovered quite easily by a skilled witch or wizard, for the magical threads are not self-contained, and thus can be unravelled. It is then a simple matter to return to the last known position, or, if the Portkey has been used multiple times, to places it has previously visited. It is, however, true that there is no _direct _method of causing it to return to a destination. There are, advantages, of course, to both:"

Almost as annoying as the fact that Hermione kept prying into his private affairs, Harry felt, as his own concentration started to drift (while he was interested in Portkeys, he was far more interested in the practice rather than the theory), was the fact that it didn't really matter one bit whether Hermione paid attention or not in class. Invariably, she would still be the first – and possibly only – person to get the spell right when it finally did come to practicing them.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

It was pouring. Harry had lost track of how long he had been flying in the torrential rain, but whilst the water repulsion spell on his glasses was still just about working, his robes were so wet it could well have been hours. Vision was negligible, despite his spell, and whilst he and Emily Crowley had to keep searching for a ball the size of a golf ball which flew around with the intention of hiding, the others at worst had to worry about a big bright red Quaffle: which was inanimate; and, like the rest of them, only keep half an eye out for the two Bludgers – far easier to spot thanks to their size, and tendency to head straight for you, accompanied with loud smashes.

Of course, the other problem with the Snitch, was that it, too, was soaking wet. At least twice so far, Harry had closed the palm of his hand on the glittering ball, only to discover it had managed to squirm away from between his numb fingers; Emily was having similar luck. In fact, it was in weather like this, that Harry began to envy the players who played in other positions on the team. Playing Seeker was a lonely enough job in fine weather, but when the weather was like this, flying virtually solo meant there was little to take your mind off it. He thought longingly of the warm common room, where, to none of the squad's surprise, Dean Thomas had remained. Having said that none were surprised, Harry thought Ron had looked remarkably reminiscent of Oliver Wood when he discovered that a player – theoretically a first team player still – had refused to show.

"Do you think Ron would notice if I just summoned the Snitch to me?" Harry suggested to Emily in frustration, as they passed each other in midair.

Emily just grinned – she was still happy simply to be allowed to fly on a halfway decent broom, no matter the weather; it felt so long ago since Harry felt the same, he almost felt old. Harry put his sleeve up automatically to attempt to dry his glasses – the Impervious charm seemed to be wearing off – and saw a wet golden object in front of him. Swiping at it automatically, he felt the slippery object escape his clasp once more. Harry cursed, and reached for his wand to reapply the spell.

"Don't even think about it Harry!" Ron yelled, from what must have been at least half the pitch away, as Harry seriously considered using his wand to help him out.

"My glasses aren't the only things that need an Impervious charm." Harry shouted back irritably.

"You know quite well that's illegal."

"It is?" Harry hadn't heard of that rule. "They put a damn charm on your ball to _help_ you catch it for Merlin's sake!"

"Rule One-Two-Five-b." Ron shouted, and gave a grunt of exertion as he avoided a Bludger. "It comes under gripping charms."

Harry blinked. Ron's knowledge of the game and its rules more than occasionally verged upon the unhealthy.

"How else do you expect me to catch the damn thing in this?" Harry swivelled, roaring in frustration.

In the distance, the shape of Emily was hunched over her broomstick, and Harry, making the connection that she had seen the elusive thing, pushed his broom into a sprint after her. Emily headed straight towards the goalposts, swerving twice in quick succession, once to avoid the second Bludger, and once to avoid the Quaffle. For a moment, she looked like she was going to collide with the post that held up the central hoop, and she reached forward, hand closing on the pole as she tried to slow down, doing a seven-twenty around it, and holding on firmly.

"You okay?" Seamus' voice roared from somewhere off to Harry's right.

Emily released her grip, grinning widely, and hovering away gently from the centre post. In her hand was a rather crushed looking Snitch. She rubbed her shoulder slightly, as Katie Bell laughed.

"Your catches are getting as dramatic as Harry's."

"I think I might have broken it." Emily said sheepishly, as she handed the squashed ball to Harry.

Harry held the ball by a flattened wing tip, and studied it. The newly made saucer gave a very feeble jerk, and the other wing twitched slightly.

"It'll be fine." Harry ventured with a grin, and withdrew his wand again. "Reparo." The ex-Snitch began to slowly reform into what resembled a 3D shape. Harry shrugged. "Well, maybe it'll fix itself. On the bright side, we might get out of this rain for a few minutes."

"Right." Ron said, as the session finally came to an end, and they watched the rain continue to pelt down from the safety of the changing rooms. "Our next training session's going to be slightly different. We won't do anything this weekend, seeing as it would normally be a Hogsmeade Weekend, and some of you won't be anywhere to be found anyway-"

"You mean you want some quality time with Hermione Granger." Seamus chortled.

"Exactly." Ron said with a straight face, neatly cutting off any further rejoinder. "So you can have a day off to yourself Seamus. When we train next Thursday we'll do something different, so I want you guys to meet up with me in the common room. You don't need to wear Quidditch robes, but wear something you can move around easily in." He added after a moment's thought. "We'll be inside."

"You've changed over the last couple of months, Ron." Harry observed, as he replicated Hermione's Umbrella charm, and they began the long walk back up to the castle.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "I think the Snitch has had it by the way, Harry." He added, looking at the ball in his hand.

"Just-" Harry shook his head, "-the way you shut up Seamus just then."

"Oh, that." Ron grinned, and then shrugged. "I think, I dunno, I think I would have been scared stiff about saying anything like that before Christmas. Now it doesn't really bother me. Anyway, well I guess you'll see when… " He hesitated, as though he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

"What?"

"It's nothing." Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry gave him a look which said simply: 'yeah right'.

"Hey – I promised I wouldn't say anything!" Ron protested, meaning Harry was sure he knew exactly what he had been thinking.

Harry bit his tongue, raised his eyes to heaven, and said nothing. Ginny had been one of the first to leave the changing room. He idly wondered if Hermione would butt out a little more after Valentine's Day, but didn't pursue the subject. Hermione was waiting for them as they returned, and Harry didn't even bother to wait for her to say anything.

"Don't start." He warned. "I can't cope with you asking questions about Ginny. Besides – I have to start thinking about that duel on Tuesday. And the Occlumency with Dumbledore. And everything else. So can't you just give me a break, Hermione?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but for once, she didn't have a rejoinder. Even if she had had, Ron jumped in anyway, saying quietly. "Let it rest, Hermione."

By the time Harry and Ron had dumped their dirty Quidditch robes to be washed by the House Elves (how that was accomplished, Harry was never sure, unless Dobby did it all), Hermione had seated herself in the middle of their usual chairs, Ginny beside her. Harry hesitated, glancing at Ron, who was likewise looking around the room. Ginny had seen Harry's hesitation, and only a hand from Hermione stopped her from rising from her chair.

Ron however, had spotted Dean talking animatedly to Seamus, and had marched over towards him. Harry stood where he was, watching from a distance. Harry didn't hear the first words Ron said, but Dean's voice carried across the room.

"I thought it was obvious why after the last game."

"You're still a member of the squad Dean, I expect you to be at trainings."

It was Dean's turn to say something unintelligible.

"Hell yes!" Ron said in what could have been exasperation. "You've got to prove why you were in the team to begin with again, but you're still part of the Gryffindor team if you do. Look, be here next week, and we're doing something a bit different anyway. It's hardly going to kill you is it?"

Dean looked at him as if he couldn't believe his ears. "But-" He began, squinting his eyes, and shaking his head. "After-"

"I'm not chucking someone out just because they had one bad game. Prove you're still better than Jimmy and your mate Seamus here, and you'll be playing in the last match. Just be there."

Ron turned, and without returning to Harry, made his way towards his sister and Hermione, Harry followed from across the room, noticing most of the other people in the room look at Ron with expressions of incredulity equal to Dean's, and the occasional look of disgust from people like Cormac McLaggen, but Ron ignored it all, sitting down with an embellished thump.

"So." Hermione began briskly, as Harry sat down too. "How are you planning on beating Malfoy on Tuesday then Harry?"

"I don't see what he has to worry about." Ron said dismissively, exaggerating his exhaustion as he slumped back in the chair. "He can speak Parseltongue after all. That's the only way Malfoy's got through to the final, because of those damn snakes."

"Malfoy also happens to know that." Harry said, scowling at Hermione. She knew perfectly well that the main reason he had mentioned it when he came in after Quidditch was to stop her going on at him. "He's going to have some kind of plan, I've just got to make sure-"

"You have to make sure that your mind is focussed on the duel." Ginny said, in an understanding voice; practically the first words she had said to him since their moment in the Room of Requirement. "It's okay, I understand." She got up, and without ceremony walked away.

Harry felt like his breath had been slapped out of him. "Ouch." He said quietly.

"Oh Harry, she's just hurting as much as you are." Hermione said, trying to sound compassionate. "And you're not helping by not explaining yourself to anyone-"

"I've got nothing to explain to you. And it's not as if I've had a chance to talk to Ginny privately." Harry snapped, and then took a deep breath. "Look, I'll go, not her. I don't want to stop you guys seeing each other too. You've hardly seen her the last few days, and now she's broken up with Dean, she's on her own all the time."

Harry got up, and before Ron or Hermione could say anything, or make more than the most perfunctory helpless glances, he left the room. He walked slowly in no particular direction, doing his best not to dwell, or to resort to his next best option: which would have involved pulling out his wand, and doing enough damage to the castle to bring Argus Filch down on him quicker than even the Weasley twins had managed. He spotted Cho Chang slipping down the staircase which led to the Owlery, and wondered again what exactly it was that made Valentine's Day so important to women. It was only one lousy day in a year; one especially lousy day judging by his only previous experience.

Cho didn't see him as she turned towards the Ravenclaw Common Room, and Harry found his feet taking him up the steps. Perhaps Hedwig had recovered from her shock and returned; he hadn't seen beak nor feather of her since that night at Hogsmeade, and felt her loss as keenly as anything else. For summers she had been his only companion in Privet Drive, and often felt more like a friend than a pet.

The Owlery was deserted, at least by people – unsurprising, considering how late the evening was – and the damp from outside felt like it had permeated the building. Harry scanned the perches, but Hedwig's distinctive snowy feathers were nowhere to be seen. He still didn't understand what had happened to her – Snape had said she'd been possessed – but why? Why go to the trouble of possessing an owl to deliver a letter to Harry?

_No_, Harry thought, as he stared out of one of the windows into the bleak evening, _I can sort of understand the possession; someone wanted to make sure I got the note. But why not just use a school owl? Why Hedwig? And why had she fled in fright and not returned? _He stared blankly out of the window, noticing the bright dot representing Mars still beaming away blurrily. Absentmindedly, he cast a gentle warming charm.

"You could probably do with this." A voice said from behind him.

Harry turned, oblivious to the length of time he had spent leaning there, gazing out the window. Ron was standing behind him, Harry's Invisibility Cloak in hand.

"It's one o'clock." Ron said in explanation.

"Oh." Harry said. He said nothing for a few moments, and then continued. "How did you know I was here?"

"You left your cloak and the map behind." Ron said in explanation. "Mrs Norris looked like she was coming up here, but Crookshanks cut her off."

"Couldn't sleep again?" Harry asked, suddenly realising that this was the second time in less than a week that Ron had discovered him out of bed.

Ron shrugged. "No."

He leant on the window beside Harry, and looked into space quietly. Neither of them said a word for many minutes, and when the silence was broken, it was Harry who did so, with an ironic grunt of a laugh.

"You notice you can hardly see anything, and yet Mars is still bloody bright tonight. Sometimes I get the feeling it's been bright every night for the last six years."

"You know," Ron began, still looking out the window, "there are two ways of looking at that Prophecy about you."

"Which are?"

"Either you won't get to live properly until Voldemort dies, or you're going to have one hell of a good time when he's gone."

Harry gave a slight shrug. "Maybe, but I don't think I get your reasoning."

There was another long pause.

"If your Mum were alive, do you think she'd listen to the Prophecy, or do you think she'd not let you fight?"

There was a tone in Ron's voice Harry hadn't heard before, and he swallowed his usual 'how would I know?' retort when asked such 'what-if's involving his parents. He stayed silent, but Ron didn't press for an answer – the question could have been rhetorical.

"I don't know." Harry said eventually. "I don't know if my Dad would either. Well," he shrugged, "the Prongs on the Marauder's map would I guess. Why?"

"I was just wondering…" Ron trailed off. "You didn't hear about Mum when we all got back from Hogsmeade, did you? You were way too conked out to wake up even for that."

"What happened?"

Ron sighed. "She went ballistic. With me, with Ginny, with Dumbledore, even with Hermione… Do you think she'll ever understand that I have to do what I have to do, even if there isn't a Prophecy about me? Do you think she would even if there was?" He shrugged. "It's just… Being mates with you really makes you feel lucky to have a home, you know?"

"You know what?" Harry said suddenly, coming to a decision. "I think my Mum would try to do everything she could to stop me having to kill Voldemort, or Death Eaters, or even get into fights, and she wouldn't give a damn about any Prophecy. In a way, I hope she would. And I think I'd do it anyway too. But look, do you think your Mum blames me for dragging you and Ginny into this? Do you think she would if she knew the Prophecy?"

"Naw, of course she doesn't think that. She doesn't think you've dragged any of us into anything. Well, I dunno what she'd do if she knew the Prophecy." Ron said. "But it wouldn't stop her wanting to keep you safe. I think you're the only one she doesn't rip into."

"Only because I'm unconscious at the time." Harry pointed out; Ron managed to grin.

"If I was unconscious she'd just wait for me to wake up."

"She had a go at Ginny and Hermione too?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. And George didn't help matters either when he told her that if it weren't for us being there, the Order would have been even more outnumbered. She just kept saying that… I don't think she'll ever accept that we have just as much right to fight for our lives as everyone else. She just says we shouldn't have to, and won't accept that we do."

"It's because we're still at Hogwarts." Harry told him. "Even though that shouldn't have anything to do with it."

"Yeah, well, we've had to grow up quickly, haven't we?"

"You know, every so often you come up with something that makes a lot of sense." Harry said with a lopsided grin.

"I didn't." Ron shook his head. "Hermione said that an hour or two ago."

Harry managed a glance skywards. "Let me guess, something about me and Ginny." Ron didn't reply.

"You should really get some sleep." Ron said, as they continued to lean there in silence.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Fawkes was dozing when Harry entered Dumbledore's study, head hidden beneath fiery red wings. Dumbledore, too, looked very tired to Harry's eyes. His whole posture was that of a person loaded with the cares of a world, which, although often overused as a description, Harry thought was probably perfectly accurate in this situation.

"Ah, Harry." Dumbledore began, looking away from the window he had been studying. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." Harry said. "Well, I've been better." He admitted, as Dumbledore continued to watch him, as though unwilling to accept the first response. "What's happened in Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Most houses have been abandoned, as have almost all of the businesses. Madam Rosmerta, and Aberforth have closed their public houses, ostensibly for repairs and restocking, but whilst Aberforth believes his clientele may remain in the area, I am afraid Rosmerta has not much hope that Hogsmeade will return to the bustling place it has been for years. Two attacks within half a year, especially one of the scope of just a few days ago, it would appear, have persuaded the general populace of Hogsmeade that it is no longer a safe place to live. And who can blame them?"

He looked Harry squarely in the eyes. "As of now, Hogsmeade is virtually deserted."

"So what do we do?"

"Presently, we can do very little that isn't simple damage limitation." Dumbledore said with a tint of sadness. "The Order is too few in numbers to operate offensively without Ministry support, and that we can not reliably count upon until their rebuilding process culminates, which could be months away. We are left to resort to covert warfare, learning Tom's objectives, and hindering them as best we can; strengthening the charms around populated areas; continuing our hunt for Slytherin's Scrivenings; and preparing for the inevitable moment when Tom Riddle considers himself strong enough for an ultimate confrontation."

"When I have to fight him. So all we – I – can do is keep practicing." Harry said, shivering slightly.

"It appears that way." Dumbledore agreed. "However, no-one knows what tomorrow will bring – not even Seers. It may well be that whilst doing what we can to hinder Tom, we shall find a way to defeat him."

"Professor Aravenne said…" Harry started to say, after a moment. "Well, he's worked out there must be some kind of charm protecting me from Voldemort – he thinks you must have cast it – and that I'm important in the fight against him. And he said, well he said that he – Voldemort – is testing me." He added suddenly, the words rushing out. "That these attacks have all been meant to test the protection around me."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked. He nodded in acknowledgement. "It seems we have a consensus then; that is certainly what the note was pointing towards, it is what Severus believes, and it also happens to back up my own suspicions. What else, may I ask, did he say to you?"

"That there was no reason Voldemort would have attacked Smeltings if he didn't want to see whether my protection also applied to Dudley. And he thought that the attacks on the Ministry and at Halloween were only because I was there too."

Dumbledore looked up, as though arrested by this suggestion. "That I find less likely, if only because these latter two attacks seemed to have an already clearly defined purpose, although it does open up more disturbing possibilities."

"Like what?" Harry asked nervously.

"Most worryingly that he is not only taking you as a threat far greater than ever before, but also that he has gained followers numerous enough to throw their lives away merely to test the charms around you. It also lends credence to the suggestion that Alastor has made to me on numerous occasions: that he is merely attempting to waste our time on a wild goose chase after these Scrivenings of Slytherin, that he does not believe they exist himself, and, instead, that he is directing his powers to disabling them on his own."

"Maybe he is just trying to find a way around my mother's protection, in case they really don't exist, but is still looking anyway." Harry suggested.

"A theory Severus also believes to be propitious." Dumbledore said, sighing once more, and looking, if anything, even older. "Unfortunately, we seem to have once more hit a wall in search of leads, which means that our resources are indeed going to waste."

"Has the diary not helped?" Harry asked.

"It has, to some extent." Dumbledore said. "But it has also led us down a number of dead ends thus far. Percy Weasley's contacts have been unable to track any of Slytherin's close students, or even their families thus far, and Slytherin himself seems to have effectively disappeared ever since Pierre Moreau mentions the fact he left the school. Ara too, after she left in search of him. Unfortunately, Hogwarts was the precursor for most of our records, so history which predates it, or from around the time of its construction is nearly non-existent."

Harry squirmed slightly, he was a long way away from reading about the items the diary had mentioned; Hermione had hogged it for so long. "Is there nothing else in the library?" He asked hopefully.

Dumbledore gave an ironic smile. "Nothing relating to Slytherin himself thus far. I must say, however, that Percy Weasley's research abilities have uncovered numerous articles written by Moreau's progeny, and wife, that would be of significant historic interest, if only we had the time to devote to them."

"Is Percy helping to look, then?" Harry asked in surprise.

Dumbledore nodded in a manner that could have been regret. "Once the decision was made to utilise his contacts, which was unfortunately necessary in order to keep our search secret, it was futile to reject his requests to help."

"Don't you trust him?" Harry asked.

"I am endangering the life of somebody who has time and time again stated his wish that his family was not embroiled in our struggle, Harry, by intentionally including him in our search. It has been said that occasionally the ends justify the means, but that is not a philosophy I aspire to. I admit I am conscious of how close I am becoming to crossing that line.

"May I ask if Professor Aravenne said anything else of import to you?" Dumbledore said, making an effort to change the mood; something Harry could not remember him doing. Everything Dumbledore said and did usually seemed to be without effort, but rather instead with consummate ease.

"Nothing that matters." Harry muttered. "Well, he lectured me on dwelling on what had happened, but…" He trailed off. _And provoked me into attacking him wandlessly._ "Well, and the exercises he's teaching me for wandless magic seem to be helping."

Dumbledore smiled. "Syde is an intriguing man, with an unusual amount of experience for someone his age. Tell me, Harry, do you trust him?"

"Yes." Harry said after a moment's hesitation. "I don't understand a lot about him, but I don't think he'd ever work for Voldemort."

"Quite revealing in its own way," Dumbledore mused, "for as I understand it, he has revealed more of his past to you than any other. It is perhaps amusing that a man who has a history of achieving so much whilst working against the Dark Arts should find himself under suspicion from so many other people because of what they do _not_ know about him."

"Do you trust him, sir?" Harry asked, remembering that not only Mad-Eye, but also Snape didn't trust him at all.

"I would not have appointed him as your teacher, had I not thought I knew enough to do so Harry." Dumbledore said reassuringly.

"But," He continued, his beard twitching, "as we have touched on previously, we are here to aid a young man's valiant efforts to learn Occlumency rather than reassure an old man with doubts. Tell me, Harry – I would imagine it to be the case – but have you found your Occlumency particularly difficult this week?"

Harry paused. He had, especially after the disaster with Ginny, but for the briefest moment he had achieved something with her that he had not thought possible for a long time when it came to Occlumency.

"It hasn't been easy." Harry admitted. "But, I still think it's getting better."

"Really?" Dumbledore said, looking at him through those piercing eyes of his. "Well, shall we get down to doing what we are both here for?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dumbledore and Harry stood watching each other for a brief moment in Harry's Sanctuary, and then Dumbledore allowed his eyes to sweep the room. He seemed to hold himself a little taller, as if some of those years, and worries, that had looked to Harry to have been dragging him down had suddenly vanished.

"I am impressed Harry. Very impressed." Dumbledore said eventually, and smiled. "At first glance, I must say that I have no idea what any of these symbols mean."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Pierre Moreau stood awkwardly in a group of Muggleborn people, who likewise had no wand. They weren't the only ones waiting for a wand however – many of the people who had wands looked like they were queuing up for replacements – but he hadn't been accepted by those people, who stood off in their own group, and his own nerves meant he wanted to lose himself in a crowd. The girl Ara had been bullying wasn't with the group of Muggleborns, and he was being treated with a mixture of wariness and formal gratitude by the people who had begun to befriend her, which was still a step better than hostility, or at best, stiff neutrality. How much of that was down to the fact that he had been willing to stick up for the girl, Gwen, something no-one else had done, and how much was down to the fact that despite Ara's insistence on showing she was stronger then Antrim, Pierre still seemed safe from her; he didn't know.

The lean, grey haired man had been flown to the castle by a carriage led by a couple of horrific looking winged horses. Their demonesque appearance had done little to quench Pierre's nerves, and it took him a while before he realised that there was faded writing on the carriage, spelling a name (he assumed, for he knew of no such word) – Ollivander. It didn't help that although the students who appeared satisfied with their wands were nowhere to be seen, there was one exception – Ara. She stood on a rise directly between the lake they were standing by, and the school, watching the rest of them carefully. For the coup-de-grace, the old man – supported by a carefully crafted cane of wood – conversed in low tones to the four Founders for a long time – a time so long in fact that Pierre had the feeling it was intentionally done in order to make them feel even more nervous.

Slytherin's eyes had been darting around as they talked, and suddenly he spoke in a louder voice. "I think we shall fit Pierre Moreau first."

All eyes turned towards him, and Pierre walked slowly forwards. Antrim may not have been there, but one thing he had stressed to Pierre after the incident with Ara was to make sure he looked confident, even when he wasn't.

'_People are more likely to start a fight if they think you're scared of them.'_ He had said; and after the snippets that Pierre had learnt of Antrim's childhood, he was inclined to take his advice.

As he walked forward, as casually as he could manage, whilst discreetly making sure he did nothing stupid, like trip over a rock, he heard Slytherin continue, in a quieter voice.

"Pierre is somewhat of an unusual student. Pureblooded, but never before had a chance to practice magic. It is fitting that he should have first pick, ahead of those of Muggle ancestry, or those who have inherited their wands."

"It does not work that way, Salazar, one wand isn't necessarily 'better' than another." The old man – presumably Ollivander – said in a tone of mild rebuke, as if he considered himself a greater expert on all things magical than any of the four Founders. "My wands are all of top notch quality, which is why you came to me in the first place. Now, do you know of the wands his parents had?"

"His father's was oak, and rather long, but what else I cannot say." Godric Gryffindor said in a low voice. "He may have made his own."

"Hmm, well that is better than nothing." Ollivander said, and turned to acknowledge Pierre. "Pierre Moreau is it?" He looked at him keenly for a few seconds. "Well, this way." He said, leading Pierre towards the back of his carriage. "We shall start with oak then."

He pulled out a strange set of instruments from a drawer, and muttered, as he started to squeeze different parts of Pierre's body, taking measurements. "I imagine your wand hand is your right?"

Pierre nodded, but the man had turned away as if he already knew the answer. "Oak, and rather long." He muttered. "It is a start, it is a start. Let us hope you take after your father then."

He rummaged through one cubby-hole of many inside his vehicle, and produced a rather knobbled looking twig. "Let us try this. Oak, thirteen inches, and a rather fine Unicorn hair in its core."

Pierre took it in his hand. It felt rather similar to Antrim's wand, which he wasn't sure was a good thing or not. He saw the enquiring face, and raised the wand tip.

"Not in here if you please." The man said condescendingly. "There are plenty of fine rocks and trees that can take the punishment if something goes wrong."

He waved the wand in one of the motions Antrim had shown him. "Reducto."

"No, no." The wand-maker interrupted him half way through the incantation. "Obviously not that one."

There was a crack of noise as a rock split into two, somewhere near where Pierre had been aiming.

"You know some magic?" Ollivander asked, as the wand flew out of Pierre's hand, and back into the hole it had emerged from.

"Just what I've learned in the last couple of days from a friend." Pierre said nervously.

"Ah… that makes things slightly trickier, having used magic without understanding the basics about it… Let us try something a little more unusual." He muttered to himself, withdrawing another wand, and then replacing it. "A core with more subtlety, let me see… How about… Heartstring of a centaur. Often works best for those who…" He trailed off, as though continuing the discussion in his head.

It felt to Pierre as if he had been there for hours, and he was thankful when the splitting of a sapling by the Reductor curse proved to be enough to convince the old man that he had finally chosen the correct wand.

"You may go or stay as you wish." Salazar Slytherin said, as Pierre reappeared from behind the carriage. "Classes will begin tomorrow morning, we will speak to you all this evening to tell you who is being assigned where on the first day."

Rather than hang around, Pierre decided to return to the building which still housed the students for now. He gave a reassuring grin to the people he had been standing with, and as a result didn't originally notice Ara move towards him as he approached, cutting off his path, which had originally been nowhere near him.

"You may be able to blast a plant or rock in two, but don't let that make you think you are anything more than a beginner. I could give you a lesson with a hand behind my back."

"All I want to do is learn magic." Pierre said. "I could care less if I had nothing to do with you."

Ara didn't stop him sidestepping her, and continuing on his way. "See you don't cross me again." She said warningly, as he walked away.

When he turned, after twenty or more paces, she had resumed her vantage point, watching the students receive their wands. Pierre mulled over why she might do that, as he left the tightly cropped grass, and reached a pebbled path which would take him back to his room. The best answer he could come up with was that she was trying to judge which of the petitioners were the most powerful.

"You got your wand?" Antrim grunted, as Pierre knocked on his door.

"We're finally starting learning stuff tomorrow." Pierre said, nodding.

"Let's see what you can do with that then." Antrim said, tossing the book he was trying to read aside.

Pierre was glad nobody was present to see his U-turn, for it left him feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. Antrim did have a rather presumptuous manner, and Pierre knew it would continue to be so until he stood up for himself again. In the current climate of fear and uncertainty, however, Pierre felt he would be a fool to do something to scare away his only friend as such, and certainly his only protector. As the youngest there, he was well aware he was the most vulnerable. He corrected himself on both accounts, as they entered the common room-cum-dining room, for, as he glanced behind, he noticed the face of the girl he had perhaps unwisely tried to help, peering through a door half pulled-to. He stopped as he saw her spying on them.

"What?" Antrim grunted.

"That girl…" He led in, and then forgot to mention the thing that had brought her to his attention, for he had noticed something else entirely. "Hang on… her bruises – they're all gone."

"So they healed, so what? What is your fascination with her – she's a Muggleborn."

"Bruises don't just vanish like magic." Pierre said, and then caught himself. "Well, unless it _is_ by magic, and then why has she had them the last couple of days? And why didn't she go to get a wand? Why is she watching us leave, and half trying to hide at the same time?"

"Maybe she's nosy? Maybe she's grateful that I saved you two from Ara? Who gives a damn? Come on, there's a lot more I can show you now we both have wands."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry tossed the diary aside, he had too much homework to do to keep reading, and it felt like too much of the book was left to be read to be remotely useful. Ron and Hermione had disappeared somewhere, refusing to say where they were going, and Harry hadn't bothered to ask: they seemed to him to have been becoming more and more open about their relationship in the last week or so, and it was probably about time in his eyes. In fact, had he known what to say to her, he would have been pleased at the privacy, and consequent opportunity to, if not sort out what had happened with Ginny, to stop it preying on his mind so much.

Instead, he started on his Charms homework, feeling a modicum of relief that the amount of homework still hadn't reached O.W.L. proportions; his biggest problem was that he was doing so many things outside of school. When they were going well, like his Occlumency was at present, then they could give him the confidence to work through the mountains of work that built up in the mean time; but when he worried about his wandless magic, or the diary, or Aravenne, or, as he had found in the past week, his relationship, or lack of it with Ginny, it had the opposite effect.

He had barely spoken to Moony recently, either through the mirrors, or talked to the Marauders on the map. All he knew was that Moony had got through the attack on Hogsmeade safely, but whenever he had used the mirror, Moony hadn't been around. He knew that the Order had to be working flat out to do whatever they could to fight Voldemort – judging by the Marauder's Map, the only time Dumbledore had been in the castle was when he had taken Harry for his Occlumency lesson, and even Professor McGonagall had been nowhere to be found at times. Snape's appearance, or lack of it, of course, didn't do anything to convince Harry that he was working for the Order, rather than Voldemort.

Harry grinned as he thought of the Marauder's Map: he wondered what his Dad's reaction would be if he tried to talk to him about 'women problems'. He supposed he was in a unique situation when it came to guys his age – if he were to bring that subject up with his father or godfather, he really would know what they would have done. But then, Prongs had been so crazy about Lily, that he wouldn't have much that was helpful to offer, and it sounded like Padfoot had been a different type of person entirely than Harry, when it came to girls.

He bent down to apply himself to his Charms homework once more, but had to prevent himself from thinking of the Marauders Map and smirking every so often. He was sure his father's advice would go somewhere along the lines of: 'snog her senseless'. Once, just once, his thoughts turned more sombre, and wondered what his father would have done if he knew that pursuing Lily would kill her, even indirectly.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

'_Help me.'_ Harry practiced hissing in Parseltongue, as the ropes faded, and a heavily wooded area began to replace the surrounds.

In front of him was a rickety wooden house, and Harry opened the door. The Parseltongue was as much to keep his own concentration as anything. He had a completely different perspective about the duel now, than he had two weeks ago. Then, it was an exceptionally important showdown against one of his most hated enemies. Now… He found it difficult to consider Malfoy as an enemy along the lines of the Lestranges, or any of the other Death Eaters who had been aiming Avada Kedavra curses towards him. Not that the enmity wasn't there, it just seemed less… _important_… now than before. He suddenly realised he had been stationary for a few moments, and the alarm that awoke in him was gratifying to some extent. At least it might help him keep his mind on business.

_Laminacelo! _He thought, pointing at the door frame behind him with his wand.

The only light in the house came from the door he had just opened, and in front of him, a musty staircase stretched upwards into the darkness, barely lit up by the parallelogram of light. The only sounds that came from above were the squeakings of rodents, so Harry left it alone, and instead pushed a door open to its side. It opened into what must have been a kitchen; dusty table, cupboards, and a sink (without taps), squashed into the small room. The creaking of a second door sounded, and Malfoy's face appeared at the back door.

Harry raised his wand reflexively. "Falxia!"

It had taken him too long to prepare however, Malfoy had simply ducked back out of sight. Both of them had been taken by surprise by just how quickly they had run into each other.

Harry didn't even bother moving towards the door – the chance that Malfoy had left a trap was too great. Instead, he cast a Reducto curse right at the ramshackled wall between them, causing dust to fly everywhere, and the whole building to shudder. It sounded as though the structure was not particularly well made.

"Bullatueor." Harry muttered, as he dodged out of the far larger than man sized hole.

Malfoy was ready for his appearance, the wordless spell he cast sent Harry flying backwards, bubble-shield and all. Harry could have sworn the wall he crashed into quaked at the contact, and he moved quickly to his right, unharmed, expecting another spell to be quickly incoming. The remnants of his bubble-shield protected him from the subsequent flames that caught hold of the house. To Harry's inexperienced eye, it looked as though it would catch quickly, and the building would be the first casualty of the duel.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry yelled, pointing roughly at where the kitchen door had been.

A muffled 'Protego' pinpointed Malfoy's position, and Harry pushed himself off his back, to twirl behind the pine trees that were in the unkempt garden. He was annoyed with himself, he had had the chance to finish it early, and hadn't taken it. If he didn't push everything else out of his head, and concentrate on the duel instead, he might end up losing it. No matter what had happened in the past few weeks, that would be no less mortifying.

'_Help me!'_ He hissed loudly in Parseltongue, ready for the snake that Malfoy might have conjured to send his way. He had done a little research on the snake conjuring spell over the weekend when he should have been doing homework, but he still wasn't sure quite how much control a wizard had over a creature they summoned in that way – as in not directly transfigured. It could be that his Parseltongue would prove to be virtually useless.

There was an ominous hissing that echoed back to Harry, the words lost as the sounds mixed together. As he realised it was merely the noise he himself had made, he was suddenly struck that he might have stumbled upon quite an effective psychological tactic.

'_Help me against Malfoy!'_ Harry repeated, and listened to the sounds permeate the walled garden once more. He stuck his head around the pine, and found that Malfoy was missing.

"Deprendo Personum." Harry said, trying to reproduce one of the charms Aravenne had shown them a week ago.

Given his levels of concentration at the time of learning, the spell worked far better than he had hoped; the white light arrowed like a laser towards the kitchen door, and began to spread, as though oozing white mud, in the direction Malfoy had gone. A second search spell to look for traps showed Harry that he had been right to avoid the kitchen door. The fire was getting dangerously close to the flaming red blob, and as a precaution, Harry pointed his wand at the space between him and the soon-to-be-rubble that was the house.

"Fervelum."

Shards of metal, rocks, and flames crashed into the metallic film soon after as the trap exploded, and Harry decided to hurry his pursuit of Malfoy before he discovered what happened when a trap containing sharp metal blades detonated. The metallic shield may be effective against flying debris, but it was still relatively brittle.

The white mud that now represented footsteps pushed between the undergrowth and trees in a method that suggested little intent, and a lot of fear. That in itself made Harry wary, for the last thing Malfoy would want to do would be to look publicly afraid of him, unless he had a trap in store.

He slowed his progress behind the white footsteps. If Malfoy had been listening in class, he would have already heard some of the ways to turn being the subject of a searching spell into an advantage. Somewhere in front of him on the hastily made path was bound to be a trap – not necessarily a trap that was too powerful, but one that might hand Malfoy back the advantage. Aware, suddenly, that he had no hope of avoiding the rustle of leaves beneath his feet as he made his way through the trees, and thus that the advantage would automatically go to the one who laid in wait, he gave another experimental hiss in Parseltongue.

He knew, to some extent, the sounds of the countryside could play tricks upon both of them; there was a rustling from the undergrowth around him which was most likely small mammals or birds, and trilling bird song would start and stop abruptly as though scared, when in actual fact they were just hoping for a reply from another bird, or else a gust of wind would tangle trees together, causing you to look up, wary of an attack from above.

If Harry didn't catch up to Malfoy soon, then trying to fight in the midst of the wood could prove to be a mistake – everything would depend upon who saw the other first, and it would become a matter of luck. Unless, of course Harry tried to do a Hermione and lay wide arcs of defensive charms, but whilst they had touched upon them in Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, it wasn't Harry's style to wait in one place.

Harry's first order of business, therefore, was to, as Aravenne would say, do the things he had control of. He backed away, knowing full well that Malfoy would have something planned, and that it would involve Harry taking one step too far. Somewhere, Malfoy was waiting for him, and somewhere, Malfoy was about to be outmanoeuvred. In the distance, the white footsteps stopped. Malfoy had not only noticed he was being tracked, but also cancelled the spell.

Harry sidestepped in a crouch to his left in a wide circle, keeping his ears wide open for any sound that might suggest a snake, or a slight movement of a human body. Thinking wryly that he should have taken the time to learn how to transfigure a mongoose, he did not take his eyes off the spot where the white footprints had started to fade. Malfoy would be around that area somewhere. He gave another hiss in Parseltongue.

The loud hiss of response was what warned him, and Harry turned to his side. As he spotted the snake, it coiled, and he leapt intuitively to his side. Malfoy's large snake completely missed him, but he overbalanced, going side first into a tree trunk, and ending up in to a roll, fingers scrabbling for the wand he had let go of as he broke his fall with his hands.

'_I am not your enemy.'_ Harry hissed, fingers searching desperately on the ground.

The snake wavered slightly, and then coiled to spring once more. As it did so, Harry's hand closed upon the Abramite, finding it on the other side of his body and firing the curse left handed with a yell.

"Stasoa!"

The snake halted in the middle of the air, covered by the same pressurised air that Dumbledore had used on the Death Eater in Hogsmeade – and used on Harry in their last Occlumency session.

Malfoy appeared from the opposite direction, and sneered at Harry, who was still getting to his feet, wand in the wrong hand, and sending a wary glance in the snake's direction – he wasn't sure how long the spell would hold.

"I only wish you could feel this Potter." He said triumphantly, as he raised his wand. "Quassossis!"

The spell clanged against the large golden shield Harry created just in time, as his wand swerved back in the opposite direction.

"Pulmelido!" Harry replied, well aware that that was one of the last spells Malfoy would expect out of his mouth, and switched hands as the wand motion ended.

Malfoy didn't try to shield himself from the spell, he threw himself out of the way instead. The spell virtually fizzled out before it passed him anyway, getting the wand motion right right-handed would have been tricky, left handed, it had been impossible. Harry didn't waste time dwelling on that, or talking like Malfoy had, but rather sent a scything curse towards his rolling body; Malfoy barely managed to get out of the way in time, and a tree behind him took the punishment for him, a branch falling to the ground near Malfoy's head. A thump sounded from behind Harry, and he looked behind instinctively to see the snake collapse to the ground, casting the Bullatueor shield automatically as soon as he took his eyes off Malfoy.

'_What happened?'_ Harry heard the snake hiss, in what sounded like pain.

Harry felt his own body tense slightly, but there had been no colour of curse, or sound of incantation, and his shield did not seem to have been broken. As he looked around, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen: he had used the opportunity to escape. Harry backed away, enabling him to keep half an eye on where the Slytherin had disappeared to, and where the snake was now, if not docile, then feeling its wounds.

'_You just happened to attack a wizard who knew you were coming.' _Harry hissed back.

'_I attacked no-one. And I wouldn't harm a snake-speaker.' _The snake said, in what could have been fury.

Suddenly the poise of the viper changed, and it readied for a strike. Its body stiffened, and Harry recognised some of the symptoms of possession. So _that_ was how Malfoy was intending to get around the problem of Harry's knowledge of Parseltongue.

'_Sorry.' _Harry hissed.

"Serpentia finitus!" Harry said calmly in English, catching the snake with the spell before it could move. It was flung backwards into a tree, wrapping around it a number of times, and then vanishing as the conjuration ended. A gasp of pain sounded from the distance, as though the death of the snake hurt the person possessing it too.

"It's not going to work Malfoy." Harry taunted, trying to get an idea of where the boy could have fled to. "Snakes are my domain. It helps when you talk to them rather than try to possess them into doing what you want."

"We're not done yet Potter." Malfoy's voice sounded from the distance.

'_If there're any snakes near that excuse for a human, I suggest they move.' _Harry hissed in Parseltongue, rather enjoying the way that every hiss he made seemed to repeat themselves in a threat.

"Falxiardor!" Harry shouted. "Incendio Maxima!"

He had never tried to use either spell quite so widely before, but felt confident enough that he could take care of Malfoy whenever he wanted. He had expected Malfoy to try something else rather than using snakes against him, except perhaps as a last resort, but now Malfoy would have to try to fight fair, and that was something he had never been particularly good at.

The arc in front of him began to sputter to life, but as the second spell hit, the burning foliage turned into a large blaze of flame; undergrowth and small and large trees alike catching fire. Harry spotted the light of a curse coming towards him late, and raised one of the most powerful shields he could think of to block it, being completely unaware of its purpose. Malfoy's spell surrounded the heavy shield, and twisted around it as though trying to squeeze it into destruction. The sound of the metal of the shield cracking gave Harry a well needed reminder that the duel was not yet over, no matter how confident he may have been getting.

In fact, why on earth _had_ Harry been taking those pointless risks? He tried to calm his body and mind with his Occlumency and Wandless magic techniques, and suddenly everything made sense.

Something was wrong. He wasn't sure whether it was his Occlumency telling him something was trying to mess with his mind, or his wandless magic detecting not _his_ own magic, as it did when he tried to cancel the Lumos spell, but someone else's, but there was definitely something there that shouldn't be.

Malfoy had hit him with a cheering charm, trying to make him lose concentration. That wasn't the only explanation, but it was the most likely. Perhaps Malfoy had taken Aravenne's assertion to heart that so called 'light' spells could be used in just as dangerous manners as anything else.

Harry was unsure of the most reliable way to go about cancelling a cheering charm, so he merely took a deep breath, pointed his wand at himself, and muttered in a quiet voice. "Finite."

The feeling of invincibility disappeared somewhat, leaving him with what he hoped was a properly functioning mind again. Harry didn't waste time cursing his carelessness, but rather took in his surroundings once more.

In front of him, the wood continued to blaze, and Harry quickly applied a freezing charm, and walked forwards. Crackling sounds of tree sap boiling filled the air, and he found himself ducking out of the way of two large, flaming, falling branches, before Malfoy came into view – a large grassy field and ditch behind him – sweating slightly, and obviously waiting for Harry, for he sent a curse at him as soon as he saw him approach through the flames. Harry allowed it to sail harmlessly by, and then aimed his wand at one of the few trees now behind Malfoy.

"Falxiardor."

The tree creaked ominously, and lit with flames too, causing Malfoy to dive out of the way.

"Congelipse." Malfoy muttered, and scowled at Harry. "What, you don't think I know that spell too?"

He started to edge around towards a group of trees that were not yet on fire, as though not quite confident enough to attempt to walk through the middle of the blaze as Harry had done, but the trees were a long way away, and Harry merely sidestepped to cut off that avenue of escape.

_Densaugeo._ Harry thought, casting the spell wordlessly. Malfoy managed to raise a shield in time.

_Falxia. Tarantallegra._

The Slytherin's legs began to tap viciously as the second spell hit, and he fell to the ground, legs still flailing in the air, but managing to remain looking at Harry, and point his wand in something like the right direction.

"Acidus." He yelled from the earth, and Harry twisted his upper body so that the spell missed.

Behind him, a violent explosion blew him forwards as the acid of the spell interacted with the flaming ground. By the time he had rolled to his feet, his left leg feeling a little sluggish, Malfoy had removed the charm on his legs, and they faced each other once more, both panting, but Malfoy more heavily than Harry.

"You're not as good as you think you are Potter." Malfoy spat.

Harry simply replied with another spell, which Malfoy deflected, still out of breath.

He glanced around, dispersing a riposte from Malfoy with the Effringo spell. There was nothing that could impact upon the duel. Behind Harry was what was quickly becoming an ashen landscape, and behind Malfoy were mere pastures. It was going to be a matter of who was better in a straight out fight. Harry stepped forwards, cutting the space in between them, and shortening the time each duellist would have to react to a spell.

Malfoy cast another spell at him, and Harry raised a physical shield reflexively. He had recognised the wand movement as a banishment charm. He felt a minor thud on his back, and a flaming branch split into two around his shield, flying towards Malfoy. He took another step forward.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled, foregoing wordless casting altogether.

"Prot-"

The spell hit Malfoy before he could get the defensive charm out, and the wand slipped out of his hands, rolling ten feet to his left. He launched himself towards it, avoiding Harry's follow up spell, which had been intended to make use of the fact Malfoy would have just successfully defended himself.

"Accio Abramite." Harry half hissed the words.

Malfoy, however, had grabbed hold of the wand, and, despite being drawn along with it towards Harry for a few yards, bloodying his face, managed to cast a defensive spell and retain possession. As Harry twisted his body to face his opponent more easily, making up for the fact that his left leg didn't seem to want to move, he found himself bending over backwards to avoid an unknown spell. He fell to the ground awkwardly, and rolled, missing a second spell.

"Bullatueor." Harry gasped, struggling back to his feet.

The shield hung there unnecessarily, as Malfoy also pushed himself upright. The Slytherin wiped the blood off his face with an arm, and waited. He started to circle in an anticlockwise direction, meaning that Harry's unresponsive leg got in the way as he turned to face him. Harry thought quickly. Malfoy's current tactics were obvious: catch his breath, while waiting for a misstep caused by Harry's injured leg.

"Tenaccidus." He yelled, aiming in front of Malfoy.

The blue light hit the ground, and exploded into a gluey substance. Malfoy shuffled into it, but stopped as he felt his feet stick, and looked down in anger.

"Tarantallegra!" Harry yelled.

"Protego." Malfoy gasped at the last second.

Harry paused to catch breath, sure he had the upper hand, but keeping a close eye on whatever it was Malfoy might attempt in order to free himself. An expression of panic found its way onto the Slytherin's face, and he made a motion Harry had never seen before, seemingly in desperation. Not wanting to risk getting which defensive charm he should cast in return wrong, Harry tried instead to push himself away from where he was standing, but failed. He had been hampered again by his leg. The spell connected, and lifted him from the ground by his ankle. Just like Malfoy was stuck on the ground, he was stuck in mid air, swaying slightly. Both unable to move, they nonetheless still had their wands.

Malfoy managed to laugh, chest still heaving, and still powerless to move his feet. "This is for my father, Potter. Falxiardor."

Harry raised his wand just in time to cast a large circular shield, and the spells made a deadened thumping noise as they met. Harry felt his blood rush downwards towards his head, as he rocked backwards, still held by some invisible hand gripping his ankle. He screwed his body upwards, and pointed the wand at his foot.

"Finite."

Harry fell to the ground with a thud, and reflexively rolled over, trying to ignore the fact that the air had all been expelled from his lungs, and it was an effort to move. He knew that if it weren't for the charms on the Abramites, the pain that he would be feeling would make it even more difficult to roll; although it might have reminded him not to have tried to dodge that spell of Malfoy's in the first place. Another curse from Malfoy hit the ground he had just left.

"Sæptus." Harry spat, and Malfoy's next curse was absorbed by the shield of air.

He got to his feet shakily, furious with himself that he had allowed Malfoy to get into a position where he might have beaten him.

"Expelliarmus." Malfoy snarled as he spoke, just as angry that Harry had regained his footing it seemed.

"Protego." Harry gasped, and then, smelling the singing of hairs, immediately continued with a charm. "Congelipse."

The fact that Harry had reapplied the freezing charm caused Malfoy to pause without thinking, as though to check whether his own spell still held. He remained stuck to the ground, so he could hardly run away. It gave Harry the time he needed to step back, and regroup. Seeing Malfoy open his mouth again to speak another curse, Harry beat him to the punch by pointing his wand and casting his spell nonverbally.

_Fervelum_.

The metallic film popped into existence barely a foot away from Malfoy, whose own spell glanced off the metal in front of him, nearly rebounding and hitting the Slytherin that had cast it, but in the end merely causing a crack to the metal sheet.

"Reducto!" Harry yelled, and the metal curtain smashed into a thousand pieces, the majority of which cut into Malfoy like razors.

There wouldn't have been a single person apart from Voldemort, and perhaps Bellatrix Lestrange, not even Malfoy, that Harry wouldn't have felt sorry for in such a situation, if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't real and so Malfoy couldn't feel the pain. He raised his wand to stun Malfoy and put him out of his misery, but changed his mind at the last moment. If Malfoy had wanted to send a message to him through Hermione before Christmas, maybe Harry would give him one back.

"Falxia." Harry spat, finishing the duel with a decisive swipe of his wand, and leaving Malfoy as a blood strewn corpse for a precious moment.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry was a little surprised by the silence that met the end of the fight, as the ropes reappeared, and the inside of the arena started to fade, but it only lasted momentarily. Harry didn't bother to offer his hand to Malfoy, but he walked past him instead, only stopping and making eye-contact with the blond Slytherin as if struck by a thought belatedly.

"Bad luck with the Death Eater initiation." Harry muttered quietly. "Maybe it's like father like son."

Malfoy shot to his feet angrily, and shot a gaze furiously towards the students sitting in the stands rather than at Harry, before returning Harry's look, and for a moment Harry wondered if the outburst of some of the anger and frustration that had been building up inside him had hit somewhere near the mark. It had been easier to dismiss such thoughts before Malfoy had tried to use the Avada Kedavra curse on Hermione as absurd, than it was now. Maybe Malfoy truly had thought that if he had defeated Harry, he would be welcomed by the Death Eaters. Maybe he was a Death Eater already.

The applause continued as he made his way towards the stands, and Harry tried to look modest as he made his way up the steps, well aware that he was presenting an unprotected back towards Malfoy, and almost half hoping Malfoy might try to do something stupid in revenge: he had just got rid of more emotions in that one duel than he had in the past week combined – even including the Quidditch practice.

"Why'd you wait so long to end it?" Ron whispered in amazement as Hermione looked at him with a strangely concerned look. "You could have cast those two spells at any time."

Harry shook his head, keeping his voice low. "It only just came to me at that mo- What is it Hermione?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I was just a bit surprised by the way you won."

Harry looked at her curiously. "It's not like I did that to him in real life."

"No but you might do if he at- Look, just forget about it, you did really well Harry, really well."

Harry shrugged. "Besides, Ron, it wouldn't have worked beforehand, Malfoy needed to be off guard."

"Maybe that's what everyone means about you being a natural at duelling, Harry." Hermione told him. "You just know what works by instinct."

"Don't get him pissed." Harry heard someone whisper in what could have been awe from above him, where the Ravenclaws were sitting.

Harry tried to ignore it, and at the same time ignore both Hermione's praise and concern. He shrugged. "I'd have ended it quicker if I could have."

He turned his head swiftly at a sound from the other direction. Malfoy and Zabini seemed to be having some sort of confrontation.

"Enough." Aravenne's voice cut across the argument. "Mr Potter, if you'd come back down here, I believe I have a champion to congratulate. And the runner-up also deserves a lot of praise for his part in a very competitive duel."

Harry stood up again from the bench he had hoped he could hide on in safety. One thing that hadn't changed this year was the fact that he hated being shown off in any manner. Loud applause met his return to the floor, among whom, Harry was surprised to see, included not only Dean (whose, admittedly half-hearted, applause was earning him a clap on the back from Seamus, and invariably a smart comment as well), but also a couple of Slytherins, including Blaise Zabini.

"I believe all our semi-finalists deserve some sort of reward for their achievements, and therefore, as the tournament victor, I award Mr Potter, and Gryffindor, seventy five points. Mr Malfoy, whose brave fight was ultimately not enough, wins forty points for his house, Slytherin; and Mr Zabini, and Miss Bones will receive twenty points each for their efforts in reaching the semi-final. And no, we will not have a third – fourth placed playoff." He said, smiling.

There were a couple of disappointed sounds from the crowd, but interestingly, not many from the Slytherins or the Hufflepuffs. Being brutally honest, the Hufflepuffs probably weren't confident that Susan would be able to beat Blaise Zabini, and, it looked to Harry, as though a schism of sorts had formed in the Slytherin house, almost as if there were some Slytherins, like Blaise Zabini, who considered themselves at the very least Malfoy's equal when it came to magical ability and intelligence, and others who continued to rally around Malfoy as a leader.

"I would like to have words with both of you during the rest of the lesson as to your performances." Aravenne said quietly to both Harry and Malfoy, but without taking pains to avoid looking squarely at Harry as he added. "Despite your two formidable efforts, there are always ways you can improve yourselves as a duellist." Aravenne lowered his voice even further. "And naturally, the best way to defend yourself is to avoid conflict being necessary in the first place."

"Don't expect me to make friends with Potter." Malfoy snorted in derision, and, when Aravenne merely weighed him up with a long look, he turned his back on his teacher.

"A good duellist requires flexibility, Mr Malfoy. Grudges create predictability." Aravenne said in a voice as calm as steel to Malfoy's retreating back.

"I don't usually agree with Malfoy about anything," Harry muttered, in the less formal manner he had begun to adopt since their personal tutorage, "but he's pretty much right there. The day we're friends, is the day…" He glanced back, to the curiously amused face of Professor Aravenne. Harry shrugged. "I can't think of anything that's as unlikely."

Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes burning with resentment on his back as Aravenne began to sort the rest of the class into arenas. Oddly, it didn't really bother him.

"Why did you finish Mr Malfoy off with a deadly curse, Harry?" Aravenne asked softly, causing Harry to jump in surprise at the Professor's reappearance. "There was no need to; he was in no position to bring himself back into the fight. Certainly you would not have at the start of our duelling practices."

Harry didn't say anything. He could not see what answer he could be expected to give.

"I'm not blind," Aravenne smiled slightly, "nor am I deaf for that matter – that there is a rivalry between you and Mr Malfoy is plain to see; indeed, that it has been there since well before his father's decline in social standing is common knowledge. Whether it began from a simple dislike of personalities, or perhaps a rivalry as to magical ability, or even a fight over a girl –" he paused with a wry smile –"although admittedly that would be unlikely at that age, it is not unheard of; the fact remains that your enmity is fast becoming one that will not be resolved easily.

"Do not underestimate the rest of the people in your year, Harry. You may have won this tournament, you may have bested adult Death Eaters, and you may be highly skilled, but be wary of becoming carefree about confrontations."

"I didn't mean to." Harry said, a little sheepishly, knowing exactly what part of the duel Aravenne was referring to. "I think Malfoy must have hit me with a cheering charm, and I didn't notice it."

Genuine surprise appeared on Aravenne's face, and he chuckled. "How did you work that out? You didn't see him cast it?"

"I'm not exactly sure." Harry muttered, as he shook his head.

"I think we may have another avenue to pursue in our lessons then, Harry." Aravenne said, still looking amused. "But you didn't answer my question, why finish the duel with a deadly curse when your opponent was helpless?"

Harry looked away, knowing he couldn't avoid answering the direct question. "He's threatened me and my friends before; you saw him try to hit Hermione with the Avada Kedavra curse in that duel! I just wanted him to know that their lives mean a lot more to me than his."

Aravenne studied him for a moment. "I see. Well, I think you deserve a well earned rest after that duel, and I have a few words to say to your opponent about his duelling techniques."

"I didn't think you cared if Death Eaters got what they deserved." Harry said bitterly before he could stop himself. "Why help him get better at killing people?"

"I am still your teacher, Mr Potter," Aravenne said in rebuke, "even if our extracurricular lessons have changed our relationship to some extent. The same is the case with Mr Malfoy; I am his teacher. And no matter what you think of certain people, remember that there is never any guarantee that they will choose the path of others in their family. The Minister of Magic was right when he gave that speech at your Godfather's award ceremony. In the end, people can be pushed towards certain lifestyles, but at at least one point in their lives, the choice is theirs, and the responsibility for their actions becomes theirs alone.

"Contrary to what you might think, there is no guarantee that Draco Malfoy, or any Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor for that matter, will automatically follow the Dark Lord. I offer myself as evidence." He said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"I think you're a bit too late with Malfoy." Harry said, trying not to sound confrontational. "He's already made his choice."

"Perhaps so, but I hope not. He may think he has, but I don't think he has yet truly had the choice to make." Aravenne replied calmly. "If you will excuse me Harry, I have a conversation with your rival to begin."

* * *

_A/N: Well, there we go - hope you enjoyed it._

_..._

_..._

_Oh, I have to do it, even though chances are 'hushpuppie' will never read this... I just... have to. The rest of you don't have to bother reading this(!). _

_Re: Harry's not being captain of the Quidditch team. Trust me when I say you don't want to get into a sports argument with me... I neglected things I ought to have been doing in the name of sport far too often... :) While leadership is one of the requesites for captaincy, the Quidditch 'captaincy' is a managerial role first and foremost... And Harry is quite right in saying he couldn't do much captaining as Seeker, too... All his attention has to be directed on that one little ball..._

_Right... now that's out of my system..._

_grin_


	30. Tangled Knots

_A/N: Here we go, chapter 30. Many thanks for the reviews, they always give me extra impetus in my writing. Without any further ado:_

* * *

**Chapter 30: Tangled Knots**

"Harry?"

Harry hesitated; he was outside, in one of the more sheltered coves near the large lake, in a place where he had thought – hoped – no-one could find him. The rain that had blighted the previous week had abated, but there was a chill wind in the air, one that could suck warmth and moisture from your body. He had left Gryffindor Tower an hour ago or more, in order to talk to Hagrid, and to see if perhaps Hedwig had found her way down to his hut. Hagrid's continual optimism, and jollity, however, had jarred with the way he felt, and so here he was, tossing stones into the lake.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice said again, just as nervously, but louder, and more pronounced, as she neared the rock upon which he sat.

Harry flicked a pebble into the rippling water before him, and rose, turning in order to see her for the first time. She had stopped, many yards away, in the wooded area surrounding the inlet, as though not sure whether to come forwards or not. Harry tried to give a lopsided, welcoming, smile, but found he couldn't for some reason. There was a knot in his stomach.

"Do you mind if- Can I-?" Ginny asked.

Harry flung an arm out to encompass the rocks around him, and said wryly. "Have a seat."

Ginny wrapped her cloak around her more tightly against the chill, giving the impression that she was hugging herself, and walked forwards, almost as if approaching the gallows, Harry thought. He thought he knew just how she felt. This, however, was a chance to have a private conversation with Ginny, to try to fix the ending of their last one. That was how he had to think of it.

This _was_ a chance to make things better – or worse – but despite the amount of time he had spent trying to imagine what he might say if he had the chance, all the words he had ended up with seemed to have flown out the window. His much vaunted courage had failed him, and he found himself unable to do anything but notice the silence.

Ginny seemed powerless to find a way to fill the quiet either. It seemed simultaneously understandable, and yet incomprehensible, to Harry, that she could have sought him out for a talk, and yet was completely unable to begin it. Why had she found him if she didn't want to attempt to sort things out between them? But yet, of course, how on earth were they going to find the words to do so?

"How did you know I was here?" Harry managed to ask at last, trying to provoke Ginny into starting the meaningful conversation. "Or was it just coincidence you saw me?"

"Hermione said you went down to see Hagrid, but when I looked out the window, I could see him working outside. I think he's teaching Nifflers again. I guess I thought I'd see if you'd got lost on the way back."

There was a brief pause.

"Has Hermione been going on at you, too?" Harry asked suddenly, flicking his eyes to and from Ginny's.

"All the time." Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "She loves being an Agony Aunt. She complains about it sometimes, but she loves it really. So when you don't want to tell her things she just-" She shrugged. "She is just trying to help, Harry."

"I know. It's just sometimes she needs to…" He tried to find the right – polite – words.

"Stick her nose out of other people's business?" Ginny suggested wryly. "That's what I told her, anyway."

Harry relaxed for a few seconds, and yet in that relaxation realised that they were finally about to approach the subject he had agonised about encroaching upon, which, ironically, caused him to tighten up again.

"Ginny – last week –" Harry's voice left him, along with the words he had been about to say.

"Yes?" Ginny said, almost eagerly, immediately it was apparent Harry had lost the nerve to continue.

It helped give him the impetus he needed to continue, but even then his words sounded lame to his ears. "Well, it really didn't go – end – the way I wanted it to." He said, before adding. "And that was before Hermione butted in."

Ginny's face had hardened, as if by reflex, but she gave the merest tweak of a smile of agreement.

Harry faltered again, even after the conversation had finally started, he still couldn't put two words together. He shrugged in desperation. "What am I meant to say? I-"

"Why?" Ginny asked eventually; after the pause proved to be more than just an intake of breath, ready to launch Harry into an explanation. "Why?" She asked again, unable to hide the emotion in her voice.

"Because…" Harry began. "Well you know why." He said dejectedly, and then continued before Ginny could answer. "Look, I know you, Ron, and Hermione said you weren't going to just disappear because of the Prophecy. Because of what I have to do, and the fact that it will make you targets. I know you three said you'd stick with me even if it might get you killed, but-

"But don't you see, Ginny? This is bigger than that. Way bigger."

"Of course it's bigger Harry. I want it to be bigger. And I thought, for a second-" Her voice trembled, and she stopped to steady it.

"Do you remember what Dumbledore told McGonagall when she tried to stop the three of you from going to Hogsmeade to fight, even after he'd said I – well – had to?" Harry interrupted, before she could compose herself. "He said that Voldemort was 'aware of our relationship'. Don't you see? It wasn't just because he wanted to keep his eye on me, and that he thought Voldemort might try to hurt me if he wasn't around – it was because he thought Voldemort would go after the people closest to me. And you can't get much closer than…"

"But I've known that ever since first year." Ginny interrupted, tears choking her voice. "I think I- I realised it fully before Ron or Hermione ever did. Ever since Riddle possessed me – Harry, I _know_ V-V- Voldemort might try to hurt me, but it's my decision."

"No it isn't!" Harry interrupted furiously. "It's not just your decision. What if _I_ can't cope with losing anyone else I care about? What if _I_ can't cope with having other people's deaths on my conscience because they were trying to protect me, or even just because they were there, standing beside me, and doing nothing? Why should I bother trying to defeat – kill – him, if there's nothing, or nobody left in the end?"

Harry turned away from Ginny; he couldn't face looking at her anymore – his meagre control over his emotions would vanish if he did. He flicked another pebble venomously into the lake.

"You can't keep telling me it's not my choice whether people die because of me or not." He told the waves on the water, and with a last reserve of courage, and a failing voice, continued. "If we- Voldemort will _know_ Ginny. And you know what he'll do. He knew how to use Sirius to-"

He had nearly managed to say it.

"And have I no say in the matter? Aren't you willing to die for someone you care about? You've risked it enough times." Ginny said, a touch of passion in her voice now. "We all went into Hogsmeade together, and we all knew we might die, maybe for people we didn't even know."

"That's different!" Harry said immediately, the objection reigniting his vocal cords, louder than he had expected.

"How so?" She challenged.

"Well for one thing we didn't go in there waving flags and setting ourselves up as targets. Besides," Harry added, his voice slowing, and quietening, "I'm the one with the best chance of killing Voldemort, aren't I? And there's also this Prophecy which means that once you get too close to me, you die."

"Harry," Ginny said, voice breaking, "Dumbledore said prophecies don't always come true." She stopped, leaving Harry feeling that she, herself, found it hard to believe Dumbledore in this, this time.

"Think about it Ginny." Harry said despondently. "It's all I've been able to do. '_Neither can live whilst the other survives_'. And Voldemort's alive, he's surviving, but still hiding out somewhere, _he_ isn't having a proper life still, and every time I think _I__'m_ about to get one, something happens to stop it. Sirius having to flee after he escaped Azkaban, and then – and then last summer. And not just Sirius, almost every year I've been here, someone close to me, or someone who has done something to give me more of a 'life' has paid for it in some way. Neither of us _are_ living, not really anyway." He gave a bitter half laugh. "I was just getting used to the damn prophecy too. Was thinking it wasn't too bad after all." He frowned at the lake in disgust.

"And what if they were nothing to do with the Prophecy, but coincidence, or maybe simply because we are in the middle of a war?" Ginny said in a voice of frustration. "Yes, one of us could die, and sometimes it seems like we could at any moment, but if we stop ourselves doing the things we want to then we might never get the chance. What if one of us dies – what if _you_ die – and you've been too busy being scared that others might die in order to live yourself."

"Better I die, not having done something I wanted to do, than I doomed the whole world because I did." Harry retorted immediately. He had lived the argument in his head already, and his mind was made up, even if Ginny might not accept it.

There was a hesitation from Ginny, and Harry turned back to see her gazing at him.

"You can't let this Prophecy ruin your life." She said softly, yet with urgency.

"I'm not planning on it." Harry said defiantly. "But if it keeps me alive long enough to have one, then that's a good thing, right? I don't get to have a life unless Voldemort is dead – it's as simple as that. And anyway, I'm not planning on dying soon. I'm not planning on dying until a long time after Voldemort is gone."

Harry saw her swallow, and hug herself a little more tightly. "I told you I loved you, Harry." She said, suddenly. "And when we kissed, I thought- but-" She shuddered. "Can't you just tell me whether you feel anything for me?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. He shook his head, slowly. "I can't."

"If it were different, Harry, if it wasn't for V- _Him_, or the Prophecy… would you… I need to know, Harry, even if we never will- I just- I need to know."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the rock. "Why? What answer would be easier for you? What do you want me to say? One way would make you miserable, and ruin our friendship, and the other… Well, both could actually. And it doesn't change anything. Whatever I say; whatever I feel; whatever I _say_ I feel: it doesn't make a difference in the end."

"Harry, I'm going to curse you in a second." Ginny said in a frustrated tone. "Just tell me, please."

"Well, what would you feel if I said I felt nothing?" Harry challenged. "Or what if I said I did, but refused to put you at risk? It's a no-win situation, don't you see?"

There was a prolonged pause.

"I can't tell you." Harry said again, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. And not just because- I don't know _what_ I feel, okay, and I can't risk trying to find out. Knowing is more dangerous for everyone than not knowing." He mumbled in the direction of the lake again. "But I don't want to keep going on like the last week for the next however many years."

"Harry," Ginny said, so softly that she could barely be heard above the noise of the wind, "if I have to, I'll wait. But I can't just keep on hoping with nothing to help me; I'm not strong enough. I need to know."

Harry felt himself shiver slightly, as if the temperature had dropped another notch, and looked towards Ginny reflexively. She had got to her feet.

"Please." She said, her eyes telling as much as her words and tone of voice.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry slipped Fred and George's 'Lock-Heart' into his pocket as he approached Aravenne's door. He had fought with himself as to whether to give into temptation and use it, so he at least had an answer to give, even if he was scared about the consequences. But even assuming that Fred and George hadn't put any tricks on it, in order to make sure it showed their sister if he opened it (which they would quite possibly do), and assuming that the locket could understand his feelings better than himself, he couldn't help feeling that he would rather not know.

It would make things a lot more difficult if Ginny Weasley's face appeared in that locket, for then he would know for certain what his gut feeling had told him. Immediately that fact was set in stone in his mind, he knew he would not be able to ignore it. If he came to recognise Ginny as being the most important person in the world to him – how could he concentrate on the things he would have to do? How could he risk the possibility that he may be able to kill Voldemort, but at the loss of the life of the person he might want to grow old with? Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had made it hard enough by their stances at the start of the year, but that; that would be unbearable. If her face came up, he would risk losing everything, and everything, for him, would just have got a whole lot bigger.

If somebody else's face came up, of course, than Harry would know the twins had been setting him up. His infatuation with Cho had long gone, and there were few other – if any – girls in Hogwarts he had even had the time to think of in that manner. In a sense, that would be just as bad, for then he would have committed himself to working out where his heart lay. A cloudy nothingness would be the idyll, at least from his point of view, but it was a huge gamble.

Harry hesitated, and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Aravenne said from within.

He was at his desk when Harry entered, but with a flick of his wand, the parchment he had been writing upon disappeared, and he stood up.

"Ah, the victorious duellist!" He greeted, with a smile. "I wonder, Harry, if you'll pander to my intrigue as to how you discovered Mr Malfoy's cheering charm at the end of our lesson – for you were right, that is what it was."

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

"Good." Aravenne said. "Let's get started then shall we?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said for what felt like the umpteenth time, trying to enunciate like he was a first year once more.

He opened his eyes; for the first time, the book was moving. It was hovering an inch or two above the table: rather shakily above the table, but it was, regardless, hovering. Harry continued to concentrate hard, staring at the book, and trying to keep in his head the image of a link between it and his right hand. Slowly, he moved his hand, and the book jerked sideways, before dropping, sliding along the table, and then toppling onto the floor, its pages splayed beneath the spine.

The edges of Aravenne's mouth twitched. "Ambitious." He said, amused. "I thought I asked you simply to make it float in one place?"

He raised his own hand, spoke his own quiet incantation, and returned the book to the top of the table.

He continued to smile. "It is surprising just how great a step up it is to a spell such as a charm to make objects fly, from the Lumos spell. Do not worry, with practice, things such as the image of the movement the wand would take, and the extra strain of concentration involved in keeping the object under control will become second nature." His smile turned into a wry grimace. "You must be sick of hearing something along the lines of 'practice makes perfect'."

"Well, it's working, isn't it?" Harry said, trying to keep the part of him that desperately wanted to hear an affirmation under control.

Aravenne nodded. "Certainly it is. Now, let us try again, but this time, try not to give into temptation, and attempt to send the book flying around my room, please." He grinned again. "Once you have control of simple hovering, we shall introduce using your hands as a focussing tool, which, after a little while, you will find helps you to control the spell."

However, to Harry's frustration, when he did try to use his hand as a focussing tool, or – in essence – as a wand substitute, he found that he was back where he started. Aravenne seemed completely unconcerned by this, but Harry knew he was getting more and more annoyed with himself with each effort he made, and, even though he could feel himself becoming sloppy, he seemed unable to rectify his mistakes. It was rather atypical of him in the past year, for he had found his Occlumency to be a great help in stemming his frustrations and emotions, but in the smaller picture, it summed up how he had been feeling since the attack on Hogsmeade. _Maybe another duel against Malfoy would help_.

"Stop." Aravenne said suddenly, and Harry realised abruptly that his Professor had been studying him. "You are asking too much of yourself. You ought not to worry that it will come to you, for you have made excellent progress thus far, even if it might not necessarily feel that way."

"All I can do is the Lumos spell." Harry said bitterly. "How is that going to help me?"

"True, the only spell you have mastered is the one which creates light." Aravenne agreed. "But you forget, Harry, that that is a spell which you can cast, and cancel in a split second – it may not feel useful on its own, but the skills you have learned whilst doing so will certainly help as you learn other spells. You can cast it wordlessly, which is a great achievement, for the voice and the wand are a wizard's primary focussing tools. And, perhaps most impressively, you have begun to control your own unintentional wandless magic. Before you criticise yourself too heavily, remember that very few wizards can do any of that, and almost certainly no mere student."

Harry gave a reluctant nod of assent which was almost more of a shrug.

Aravenne glanced at his watch. "I think we'll leave the wandless magic there for today, but perhaps we can talk about how you recognised Mr Malfoy's spell before you leave."

Harry nodded again. He had forgotten they were going to do that.

"Sit." Aravenne suggested, and did so himself, leaning forwards. "You said that you worked out Mr Malfoy had cast a spell on you, and in particular that it was a cheering charm. How?"

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was his Occlumency, or his wandless magic, which had warned him something was amiss, in fact, he wasn't even sure that it was either.

"I don't really know." Harry said slowly. "I mean, I thought I was acting recklessly, and I wondered why, and then… I don't know… I could just _feel_ that something was wrong. I guess it might just have been me thinking that I wouldn't usually do something like that, and realising from that."

"Perhaps." Aravenne said dubiously. "However, one of the main qualities of a Cheering charm is that it is very hard to do just that – to tell that you are under its influence. I wonder…" He hesitated for a moment. "Harry, would you mind if we try to duplicate the incident? Not with a cheering charm of course, for you would already be expecting it, but with a spell which is similarly difficult to detect, and which I doubt you will have experienced before."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"I would rather not say, or at least, not before we try this experiment. I am intending to use the Abramites, if that helps put your mind at rest about being hit by an unknown spell, so it will be impossible for any harm to be done, or even for any residual effects."

"Okay." Harry said slowly.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt. In fact, by all rights, you shouldn't be able to feel anything whatsoever: it is a devious little charm." He grinned as he stood. He walked over to his desk, and reached for the box of Abramites, which, Harry noticed, was already out of its bag. "Let us just say that it interests me as to exactly how you were able to reach the conclusion you did." He paused, and then grabbed a second Abramite. "Do you think you were protected by a shield when the spell hit you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, the Bullatueor shield."

"It shouldn't make any difference," Aravenne said, straightening up, and tossing Harry one of the two Abramites, "but try casting it anyway, just to be certain that we try to replicate the incident as accurately as possible."

Harry, who hadn't bothered to withdraw his wand all of the session, caught the Abramite easily.

"Okay." He said, standing up, but still feeling doubtful. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"First of all, turn around, so you can't see when I cast the spell." Aravenne replied, smiling. "I would suggest that you try to picture your body as if you were attempting to cancel the Lumos spell, but rather than concentrating on any specific part of your body, try to observe it from a distance."

"Right." Harry said, exhaling. He turned his back to Aravenne. "Bullatueor." He muttered, before relaxing into a state where – he hoped – he could observe his body for any changes.

"Anything different?" Aravenne asked after a moment.

Harry shook his head – a vague outline of his body in his head. He reapplied the Bullatueor shield after another moment, and tried to prevent himself from worrying as to whether it was still in effect or not. From Aravenne's suggestion, he had almost expected to be able to see some representation of the shield around him, but there was nothing, just a greying image of his body.

"How about now?" Aravenne asked, shortly after he had reapplied the spell.

Nothing had changed; even when Harry – unasked – tried to look more closely for magic at various positions of his body. The thing was, he was looking for his magic – he had no clue as to how Aravenne's might be resembled.

Aravenne sighed ruefully. "I didn't honestly expect you to be able to tell. But, seeing as it appeared you noticed a subtle spell, I thought it was worth testing with another subtle one."

"But why?" Harry asked again, this time hopeful of an answer.

"One of the skills – eventually – Virgaemin gain, is the ability to sense magic, whether theirs, or somebody else's, at – very – short distances. It is a natural progression if you think about it, for, as we said earlier, you have proven to yourself with the Lumos spell that it is possible to sense your own magic – and cancel it. So too can a fully fledged Virgaemin detect, and cancel, other people's magic."

Here Aravenne gave a wry grin. "So, if by chance, you find yourself fighting a Virgaemin Magus, putting them in a spell such as a full body bind achieves little more than gain you time in order to cast a spell more permanent. The most powerful Virgaemin Magi, remember, do not require motion, or a wand, or even their voice, in order to free themselves. Fortunately, these witches or wizards are few and far between."

"Unfortunately, one of them wants to kill me, and you think is testing out any charms protecting me before he does it." Harry said bitterly.

Aravenne hesitated for a second. "Yes." He admitted. "But even though He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –"

"Voldemort." Harry interrupted.

As always, he was a little surprised with himself that he continued to push Voldemort's name upon Aravenne. Before he could try to work out why exactly he was doing it, Aravenne had continued, with barely a pause, and without any obvious sign of being bothered that Harry had interrupted him. He hadn't shown any outward fear of the name since the first time Harry had mentioned it, if anything, he seemed slightly amused; but not an amusement that was directed at Harry, or Voldemort's name per se, but, bizarrely, as though he actually approved of Harry's insistence of calling Voldemort by his name, even though he didn't do it himself.

"Even though he is unquestionably a Virgaemin Magi of the highest ability, you must remember that, just like you, he will find each spell he casts wandlessly an effort greater than if he had a wand, just as casting a spell whilst speaking the incantation is easier than casting it nonverbally. Virgaemin of all kinds deserve respect, whether they combine it with speaking the incantation or not, but it does not mean that they are invulnerable. You have felt first hand how much energy the killing curse requires – imagine how much it requires to cast it not only without the aid of a wand, but without the aid of your voice either."

There was silence, as Harry digested what Aravenne had said. Eventually he fell back upon something Aravenne told him earlier.

"So I could learn to cancel other people's charms without my wand?" He asked.

Aravenne chuckled. "Eventually. As I gather you have guessed, it is not as easy as just saying the counter incantation. Certainly it is not something you can just learn to do immediately. The better at wandless magic as a whole that you become, the easier you will find it. It is a skill that most of us find difficult." He paused, and then looked at Harry thoughtfully. "It may be that you have an advantage over the rest of us however, indeed, that was one of my suspicions after the attack last autumn."

It took Harry a few moments to realise what Aravenne was referring to, and then he remembered how he had been half released from the Death Eater's body bind at Halloween.

"But regardless of when we broach this subject in your studies, now is obviously not the best time." Aravenne continued amiably, and glanced at his watch. "I think we should certainly end our session there, Harry. For that matter, I would also think that the best thing for you would be a couple of hours without strenuous mental – or magical – activity."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Right." Ron said brusquely. "Everyone here?"

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, as he stood up to join the rest of the Quidditch squad, "could you leave me the diary? I'd like to look through it again."

"Sure." Harry said with a shrug and a sigh. "I'm starting to get bored of reading how he learnt the spells we've already learnt years ago. Even if he did help create the Slytherin common room."

"I thought you'd be interested in that-" Hermione began, with a small smile.

"I already have a map, Hermione. And I've been there." Harry reminded her quietly, and joined the rest of the team before she could reply.

Ron had been curiously reticent about where they were going for this training session, and why exactly they weren't going down to the Quidditch pitch. To Harry's slight annoyance, it seemed Hermione knew what he had planned, but he wasn't letting anyone else know. As a result, he found himself shrugging when curious glances from Seamus, and Katie, came his way. Ginny, who was a number of people away from him, likewise looked just as nonplussed. The vague feeling he began to get as they descended the floors, and yet remained a distance from the Great Hall began to appear more and more justified, _but_, he thought as Ron knocked on the door of the classroom on the first floor that had been disused before this year, _why exactly were they going to the duelling arenas?_

"Come in." Aravenne's voice said from the other side of the doorway.

"Right, inside." Ron grinned, opening the door, and gesturing for the others to enter.

It looked like the younger years hadn't been treated to the duelling sessions held by Professor Aravenne, for Emily Crowley was looking around her in awe. The four arenas that Harry had become used to seeing were gone, replaced by one single roped off area, looking rather larger than the others, although Harry knew that once they entered it, it probably was exactly the same size. Not for the first time he wondered at exactly how far the size modification charms he had first seen in Mr Weasley's Ford Anglia could be pushed. Also, not for the first time, he grinned as he wondered how the old car was doing in the Forbidden Forest.

It wasn't this single arena which Harry first noticed, however, despite the fact that it looked identical to the old house he had fought Dean in, months ago. Rather, it was the Defence Against the Dark Arts' Professor that attracted his attention; both him, and the table in front of him, that was. After a second of staring, Harry turned and looked at Ron with an expression of near incredulity, the things that were on top of the table, looked remarkably like imitations of Muggle-

"You're not serious!" Dean said, when, as the last person through the door, he too saw what had attracted Harry's attention. Gone was the slouchy 'I-don't-want-to-be-here' demeanour.

"Paintball?" Seamus asked in what could have been glee, or what could have been amazement, it was hard to say.

Ron's face turned into one of relief for a split second, before he grinned at them all, and strode forward towards Aravenne. He was hiding his nerves well, but Harry could tell from the little pieces of body language, that Ron had been unsure about how this would turn out. _Which,_ he thought retrospectively,_ was probably why Ron hadn't told anything to anyone. Except Hermione, it seemed. And, come to think about it, she may have come up with the idea, or part of it, in the first place._

"Right lads," Ron said, and paused, looking at Katie, Ginny, and the other girls in the group and managing to grin, "and ladies, it struck me after our last match – which despite all of us making mistakes, me included, we were still too good for the Ravenclaws to beat us – that sometimes three or four days non-stop Quidditch training a week doesn't help team spirit." Nobody looked at Dean. "So I thought it might be a good idea if we did something different – just for fun. And so that you can get any anger out of your system somewhere other than the pitch." He added mildly.

"First of all I thought of asking Professor Aravenne if we could borrow his duelling arenas, but seeing as we have players from pretty much every year, I didn't think that would be fair. So I thought we'd try something that needed no magic at all, and go Muggle. I kind of hoped that none of you guys would have played paintball before either, but…" He looked at Dean and Seamus, and then pointed at them. "You guys are going to be on separate teams."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this – he knew Ron tended, if anything, to switch off, or at the very least not really understand the conversation when the subject of Muggles came up, but he was sure that Dean and Seamus had both mentioned paintball before now.

"You're mine Thomas." Seamus grinned.

"Wanna bet?" Dean retorted.

"We wouldn't be able to do this if it wasn't for Professor Aravenne." Ron continued, cutting across them. "Because not only did he let us use his duelling arenas, but he made most of the effort in copying the Muggle guns. So I just want to give him a big thanks – he didn't have to do any of this."

Harry grinned at the expressions of the majority of the Quidditch squad when they heard the unfamiliar Muggle word 'gun', and mentally noted the ones who seemed to already know about them as ones to watch out for in whatever fights Ron had planned.

Aravenne smiled easily, and waved away Ron's thanks. "It was quite interesting really, almost makes me wish I'd tried Muggle Studies in school."

"We've done _nothing_ like this in Muggle Studies." Jimmy Peakes muttered, and then continued. "Not yet, anyway."

"Regardless," Aravenne said, "I am particularly interested to see how this goes, for I may find something similar of use to my younger classes." He spotted Emily Crowley staring at him wide-eyed, and elaborated. "It is very difficult to explain what actions to take in a combat zone, when the people you are explaining to have no real way of defending themselves, or even slowing down an attacker." He took something, or rather, things, out of a pocket, and handed them to Ron. "Mr Weasley, if you'd like to continue?"

"Ah- Yeah, thanks sir." Ron opened his hands, revealing a number of glowing badges. "When you put this on, it will make shapes on your body. If you get hit in there, you're dead. Oh, and your gun will stop working until the next fight. The same if your head gets hit." He affixed one of the badges to his chest, and the group watched as a circle began to swell out from his heart, and a large blob began to form on his lower torso. As the shapes stopped growing, the light stopped shining, leaving just lines to indicate where these 'kill-zones' were. "Get hit twice anywhere else and you're dead too." Ron added. "So, if you want to each take a gun and badge."

"Where are the extra clips?" Dean asked suddenly, as he picked up one of the paint-guns.

"The, uh, what?" Ron said, nonplussed.

"Extra ammo." Seamus explained. "You know, for if you run out."

Ron looked uncertain for a moment. "But you won't run out of paint, they only look Muggle, they're still made by magic."

"Ah but that's half the fun." Seamus said in what was – mainly – mock dismay. "Running out of ammo and having to change clips when in the middle of a fire fight."

"If you want, you guys can help me-" Ron glanced at Aravenne, and looked relieved when the Professor smiled, "-us make everything authentic afterwards, but it's best to keep it simple now, not all of us have done this before, you know. In fact, seeing as you two are seasoned pros, got any advice for the rest of us?"

Seamus and Dean glanced at each other, and Seamus nodded.

"First off, you need goggles." Dean said definitively. "You really don't want paint in your eyes, or to get hit on your face at all."

"That and most of you have no idea how fast these things go. They can hurt as much as Bludgers." Seamus added.

_Which was all too true... _Harry thought to himself, as he crept cautiously along the corridor.

It seemed to him that he had been hit by a pellet of paint before he had even heard the gun fire in the first fight, and it had definitely hurt. It was going to have left a bruise, a big one too, in all probability. As were the subsequent ones. He had been the first person eliminated, and he was sure that it had given Dean great glee to have been the one who had shot him. In fact, he was also pretty certain that some other members of the team had been pleased to see that the famous Harry Potter had been the first to be 'killed'. Not that it was because of any enmity that is, but just because he was _the_ Harry Potter.

Harry had learnt his lesson however, and had been extra careful in just how he turned a corner, or moved along a wall which had a window, or simply made sure he kept under cover at all times. Not that it had stopped Dean from seemingly stalking him. He was sure that half the times he had died it had been because of Ginny's ex.

Aravenne had changed the arenas they fought in a number of times, stuffing each one into those carved wooden boxes, and removing another. It had taken Harry a while to realise that Aravenne himself was probably trying to work out which arenas worked best with these Muggle guns. Their current arena looked like a Muggle building site to Harry. Perhaps it would eventually grow to be a factory of some sort – that is, if it was 'completed' by Muggles – but for now the arena contained a number of different buildings, all kitted out with metallic floors, ledges outside the walls and windows, and a number of places where people could hide and lie in wait.

It all made Harry realise just how naked he felt without his magic to protect him. All in all, it drove home the fact that he was used to using shields. Perhaps _too_ used to it. He edged his way to a corner, and stopped. Across from the corner Harry was standing by was a blank space, where a wall was 'scheduled' to be built, but he could see nothing but grey sky, rain, and rubble. He glanced around the corner cautiously, pulling his head back in as soon as he could. Ginny, who happened to be on the opposing team, was walking cautiously down the corner with her back to him. Feeling a little guilty at the prospect of shooting Ginny, especially in the back, he nevertheless rounded the corner, and raised the heavy weapon. After all, Ginny had had no compunction about trying to shoot him earlier.

Harry had yet to really grasp the technique of aiming with the gun, more of a rifle, so he simply carefully pointed it towards Ginny's back, and fired.

The gun jerked as he pulled the trigger, and the ball of paint passed harmlessly over her shoulder, causing her to turn reflexively. Her return shot also missed, and he found himself jumping back, despite the fact that the paint pellet had already hit the wall behind him. A second shot rang out, and his shoulder stung. He glanced to his side, and couldn't help but groan. Dean was kneeling on one knee, gun balanced on the other – grinning as if he were posturing for added entertainment – from the direction that Harry had come, effectively cornering him – at least, unless he wanted to try jumping out the missing wall, and trusting that the two story fall wouldn't leave him a sitting duck. Harry turned his upper body, and fired rather wildly.

Dean dropped into a near prone position – although he needn't have bothered, the paint splattered the ceiling above him – but his second shot also missed. Harry didn't hear Ginny's second shot fire. He was – without a doubt – in too much pain to take it in. He scrunched his eyes into blackness, dropped the gun, and cupped his most private area, a pain ripping upwards into his stomach, from where the pellet had struck. He gasped, and tried to open his eyes, but found himself blinking back involuntary tears of pain.

"HEY! HOLD UP!" Dean bellowed into the air, loud enough for the whole of the arena to hear – which was obviously his intention. "MAN DOWN."

The next voice Harry heard was Ginny's, which sounded mortified. "Harry, are you okay? Merlin – I'm sorry."

"Trust me when I say you have got no idea how much that hurts." Dean said; the wince in his voice somehow harmonious to the agony Harry was feeling. "Hey, Harry – can you get up?"

Harry felt hands trying to help him upwards, and he forced himself to his feet, still bending over.

"Take deep breaths." Dean advised.

"What happened?" Ron's voice asked, and Harry looked up, taking a gulp of air.

The ropes were back in place now, the surroundings somehow less substantial, as they always were when the arena wasn't in use. A crowd was gathering around him, and Harry found himself going a little red. The pain was bad enough, but for everyone to see how much pain he was in, not to mention where it hurt…

"He got hit in the… Well, plum in the nuts." Dean said. "It was a perfect shot." He added wryly, looking at Ginny, who was scarlet.

There was a collective intake of breath from the male population, but a few grins as well.

"I'll be fine." Harry said, feeling anything but. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Want to go up to the Hospital Wing?" Ron asked in a worried tone.

"No way!" Harry said decisively, trying, and failing, to imagine exactly what he would say to the Healer when she asked where the pain was. "You must be joking. I'll just sit out a bit if you don't mind."

"I'm really sorry Harry." Ginny said again.

Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine. Anyway, I guess you killed me, which was the idea."

"You sure you're okay mate." Dean asked in concern, as Ron started to direct people away, to recommence the fight. "I should have thought to say cups might be an idea, I just didn't think. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

Harry looked up at him, and searched his face to try and work out whether he was referring to his break up with Ginny, or the actual painful situation Harry found himself in. Thankfully he looked sincere.

"I'm just glad Voldemort doesn't realise how many non-magical ways there are to cause pain. Or else he thinks them beneath him or something." Harry muttered, trying to find some humour, and then cursing as he realised who exactly he was speaking to. "Damn – sorry Dean I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean-"

Dean's face had turned as hard as flint, but it twitched and softened slightly as Harry attempted to take back the words he'd said. "Yeah." He said shortly. "I know you didn't. Look, I guess none of this is really any of your fault. But sometimes…" He paused, face contorted as if he was finding it very hard to speak. "Sometimes you just feel that everything's going wrong, and everything you try to do to feel better makes you feel worse instead… And you think that if you can just find someone to blame for it all... But yeah, you didn't go out and try to… make any of this stuff happen."

"I know what that feels like too." Harry said quietly, mind taken off the pain somewhat.

"Yeah." Dean said, turning to re-enter the arena, voice still an effort. "I guess you probably do." He paused, and looked back at Harry, managing a very small smile, which was so forced it looked painful. "Déjà vu I guess. I guess I hope this doesn't happen again."

As the pain faded, and Harry managed to grasp more complicated concepts than sheer agony, he started to feel a touch of admiration for the Beater, even if he wasn't exactly sure if he was anywhere near ready to forgive him yet.

_Pain aside,_ Harry thought to himself, as he finally re-entered the fray (protection attached), and managed to hit Katie right in the middle of the shape around her heart (admittedly more by luck than anything),_ paintball's actually pretty good fun_.

He was sure that the rest of the team thought so too, and it might have been Harry's imagination, but Dean seemed to be more in the middle of things on the journey back, than he had on the way there. It certainly appeared that Ron was relieved by the way the session had gone, as they made their way back to the common room – the majority of them bruised, battered and not-to-mention splattered with paint, and looking forward to a long soak – for he even made a smart comment about Ginny hitting Harry where it hurts. The fact that neither Harry nor Ginny were in any way amused didn't deter him from finding delight from the situation himself either.

Ginny hadn't said anything more to him about, well, _them_, since their talk by the lake, although she hadn't avoided him quite as much, but she hadn't been anywhere near as familiar with him, _or_, he thought with a pain in his gut quite unrelated from the workout, _he, Hermione, and Ron as a group_, as she had been before. He knew that the Snitch was well and truly on his side of the pitch, as it were, and he still had no clue about how he could go about answering her.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"How do you know that it was Muggles who killed my parents?" Pierre asked Salazar Slytherin.

Pierre had been in Hogwarts for over three years now, and judging by the diary entries, he had been trying to muster the guts to ask this question for some time. Or rather, to ask _Salazar Slytherin_ this question, for some time. He had already asked Godric Gryffindor about what had happened – after all, he was the one who had rescued him, and he was the one who had tried to track down whoever was responsible.

Gryffindor had tried to give him some idea of what had happened, of how exactly his parents had been able to hide him, and yet not themselves, but the truth was that he didn't know much about how they had met their end either. He had tried to give Pierre an impression of what his parents were like, but when it came to explaining their demise he couldn't even say if it was caused by Muggles, or other witches or wizards. Every time Pierre had asked about what Gryffindor had done to hunt those responsible, he was met by the same sad smile, reluctance to go into details, and the fact that whatever Gryffindor had tried, hadn't worked.

Pierre had been hidden away, Gryffindor said, both from prying eyes, and also prying magic, although he himself had managed to identify and get around the concealment charms. He was sure that the fact Pierre had been hidden from magic was significant, for two reasons. Firstly, they must have been aware that they were in some danger, or they would not have hidden Pierre quite so securely. Secondly, they were as worried that their assailants were witches or wizards as if they had been Muggles.

Pierre had been two at the time – he had nothing but the faintest memories. Seeing as he was yet to see anybody apart from Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor apparate, he assumed that even if his parents had had the opportunity to, they either couldn't, or couldn't take him along with them.

Salazar (Pierre was one of a selected few whom he allowed to use his first name), on the other hand, seemed to feel it was a foregone conclusion that Muggles were the culprits, and Pierre had often wanted to ask him why. However, despite the fact that Pierre had frequently been under his supervision, despite their having been alone together a number of times, whether discussing magic, brewing potions (as they were now), or studying tomes (like Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar was delighted by his ability to read) he had lacked the courage to ask the question preying on his mind.

_How exactly could a witch and wizard powerful enough for Godric Gryffindor to consult about Hogwarts, been killed by Muggles?_

"How do I know?" Salazar replied, with what could easily have been bitterness in his voice. "It is what they do Pierre; it is what they do."

"But… if they were witches and wizards…" Pierre began.

"My parents were witches and wizards." Salazar said abruptly. "My father I never knew, to this day I do not know whether he lives or has died. But my mother – Muggles killed her, and I saw it all happen. I too was hidden away in safety; I too was protected by charms. But I was older, I saw the whole thing happen. My mother was magically strong, and yet even she could not see everything at once, be everywhere at the same time. She was struck from behind, and then butchered. And why? Because she was a witch."

"But, wh-"

"Why?" Salazar Slytherin repeated, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. "Because Muggles fear two things above all. They fear what they can't understand, and they fear those who are stronger than them; those who have more power. They need no other reason to persecute us. They may make up other reasons from time to time – they may claim we are anathema to their precious religions, but they are just making excuses. And that is why they must never be allowed to even hear of this place, what we do here, and where we are. Never. Do you understand?"

Pierre nodded wordlessly, a little scared.

"We must not allow our race to be destroyed by their hate, even if that means that we must kill them to protect ourselves. Many wizards don't understand the danger Muggles can be, even, or perhaps especially, wizards as powerful and clever as Godric is, and that is why it is up to people like us to keep this place safe. People like us have felt first hand what they can do." Seeing Pierre's scared face, Salazar's intensity softened. "I do not expect you to kill any Muggle, but we must do what we can in order to keep their kind away from Hogwarts; you must understand this. We are not alone in how we feel, there are others among the students who understand the risks Muggles, and even Muggleborn magicians can represent."

"But-" Pierre hesitated. "But, does it have to have been Muggles who killed my parents? Might it have been other wizards?"

"It is… possible." Salazar allowed. "Although I feel it to be somewhat unlikely."

"Aren't there ways of finding out?" Pierre asked, and looked at the cauldron in front of him, in which he was brewing a potion to enhance strength. "Isn't there some sort of potion that you can give a Muggle to see if they are lying? Or some spell of some kind?"

"There are… ways." Salazar said slowly. "Ways that only the very skilled can use to prise information away from people, whether magical, or mundane. Godric knows of these ways, and I am sure that he used them upon Muggles near where you lived, which most likely is why he refuses to admit that they are the most likely culprits. He assumes that the murderers still live, or that they once lived in that area. There are Muggles who hunt us like animals, whether on their own, or in packs, it might have been they who were behind the attack upon you and your family."

"What ways?" Pierre asked.

Salazar looked at him through narrowed eyes, and then shook his head. "Not now, you are still far too young."

There was a finality about his tone that stopped Pierre from continuing to discuss the subject. He leant back down towards his cauldron instead.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry shut the diary with a slap of frustration, and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione might seem to find this sort of thing fascinating, but he, on the other hand, was getting tired of it. Plus, the book seemed to have a deceptively large amount of pages for its size. At least Hermione was proof that there was an end, and it didn't stretch on forever.

For once in his life, Hermione hadn't completed her homework before him – Professor Vector had apparently set a long, hard essay (although knowing Hermione, she probably had had another fortnight in which to finish it), and she had only left the library and joined them in the Room of Requirement shortly before Harry gave up with the diary. The four of them – for Ginny was there too – seemed to have almost taken up permanent residence there over the last week or two. It was so much easier to talk about things in private.

"Anything?" Ron asked, noticing that Harry had set aside the book.

Ron was busily beating Ginny in a game of chess upon Harry's board. That was another reason they were in the Come-and-Go Room – taking the set out in the Gryffindor Common Room tended to cause a stir of interest from all directions, and that meant they had to watch what they said even more carefully. Probably the fact that Harry's chess set never ceased to amaze was one of the reasons Ginny had consented to the game in the first place, for Ron must have beaten her countless times as they grew up. It really was a marvel of Weasley ingenuity, Harry felt, a surge of pride welling up in his stomach.

"Only if you're interested in ancient history." Harry replied, stretching, and belatedly answering the question. "There's more in here about how Hogwarts was built, and what they used to teach, than anything about Slytherin. And the bits about Slytherin don't seem to be much use either."

"That's not true, Harry." Hermione said, looking up from her chair.

"I'm not saying there isn't enough for you to write a book about Salazar Slytherin on, Hermione, but there's nothing useful to _us_."

"Well, if _you_ aren't going to read it, I'll have another quick leaf through." Hermione said, getting to her feet, and giving Harry the feeling she had just been waiting for him to put the diary down.

"What for?" Harry asked sceptically. "You've already gone through it – you know there's nothing useful. There's more in it about that girl, the one he tried to stick up for, whatever her name is-"

"Gwen." Hermione supplied helpfully with a smile.

"Yeah, there's more in it about Gwen than there is about Slytherin."

"You haven't read it all yet Harry."

"Well if there was something useful about those Scrivenings you or Dumbledore would have found it, wouldn't you?"

"Actually," Hermione said with a mischievous smile, "I was just going to say that he talks about Gwen even more as he gets older."

Harry looked at her blankly, and Ron gave her an inquiring look. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly you two, even I can guess what Hermione means by that, and I haven't looked at the diary."

"Oh, very funny, I suppose you mean she was Sirius' great-great-great- how ever many times grandmother?" Ron supplied, catching on.

"Oh." Harry said. "Right. Actually, there is one thing I keep wondering about her, Hermione. Do you have any idea why she always seems to be bruised, or cut, or hurt in someway? Did Ara keep attacking her or something without anyone knowing? And why did Ara have something against her in the first place? Because her parents were Muggles?"

Hermione's smile faded, and her voice hushed, as though she were about to say something distasteful, or embarrassing. "Well, yes, Pierre eventually discovered why that was – and, well… well…" She sighed, and continued, with the air of someone putting off something unpleasant for a short time. "But it's not that Ara simply hated her, it's a lot more complicated. She hated _Muggles_, and didn't seem to think they were better than animals, but she didn't necessarily hate Muggleborns. And anyway, after a little while she left her alone and they must have become a little bit more… _friendly_, judging by some of the later bits in the diary. She didn't even kick up a fuss when Gwen and Pierre started courting, and that was before she started acting friendly to Pierre."

"Courting?" Ron piped up.

"Dating."

"She acted friendly to Pierre?" Harry said in surprise, cutting through the interlude.

She looked at Harry's disbelieving expression. "Well, it took longer than where you've read to.

"Anyway, that was why they became Blacks, because neither of them had a real family – Gwen had Ara as a foster sister thirty years older than her, and Pierre had an uncle as a Muggle Abbott – so they started their own family. They generally got referred to as the 'two blacks', anyway, by everyone else at Hogwarts."

"Which hasn't really answered my question in any way." Harry pointed out.

"Fine…" She reluctantly continued, sighing, and then continued to put off the answer. "But it's not that Ara was angry at Gwen because Gwen was Muggleborn, it's just…"

Harry glared at her.

"Alright! Well, Gwen's family died, because villagers found out she could do magic. She was only something like four or five, and … they set fire to the house, with her and her family inside, and blocked all the exits, pushing anyone who tried to get out back inside again with long poles." Hermione shivered, making Harry wonder just how vividly the story had been told to, and then written down by, Pierre; on second thoughts, he didn't think he wanted to know. "And while whatever magic she had, saved her long enough for Ara's father to rescue her, she- she watched her parents and her older sisters be burnt alive. And even if she didn't know why while it was happening, it didn't take her long to realise that it happened because she was who she was."

Hermione took a deep breath. "She's the one who hurt herself, Harry. She physically tortured herself because she blamed herself for the deaths of the family. And that's one of the reasons Ara was so incensed with her. Because she kept hurting herself, long after it had happened. As far as Ara was concerned that was simple masochism, and an insult to her father, who put himself at risk to save her. But when she stopped her self mutilation..." Hermione shrugged, and trailed off.

There was complete silence. Harry felt vaguely sick. Ron and Ginny's chess game was forgotten.

"Forget about hurting herself, I'm surprised she was anywhere near sane." Ron muttered under his breath. "If that's not a good enough excuse for doing something weird like that I don't know what is."

"Muggles did _that_?" Ginny asked eventually, voicing the revulsion they all felt.

"Yes." Hermione said, and then continued in a rush, as though she felt she needed to stick up for Muggles in general. "But that isn't to say that Witches and Wizards weren't hurting each other, or Muggles, in horrible ways either. And they did – another of the students at Hogwarts was Muggleborn, and abandoned as a child by her parents, and she used to hunt Muggles down. The only reason she was allowed in Hogwarts, and people like Gryffindor or Hufflepuff didn't do something about her, was that Slytherin persuaded them he could stop her."

"Slytherin said that?" Ron's voice sounded full of a deep mistrust.

"Well, he _said_ it." Hermione shrugged. "And, well, you ought to read the diary, Ron, he doesn't seem as bad as we've always thought."

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "No thanks, I just need to look at all his students. I can't believe you of all people are sticking up for someone who created a monster to kill Muggleborns."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean '_me of all people_'?" she asked Ron dangerously.

"It attacked you!" Ron said in an expansive expression of disbelief. "What did you think I meant?"

Harry found himself looking at Ginny, who had gone white at the reference, and thought he knew exactly what was going on inside her head.

"How about we just leave that be?" He snapped, more angrily than he had intended, but it did the job, for both Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "The Basilisk is dead, okay? We all know what it could do, and how pure your blood is doesn't enter in to the equation."

Hermione was the first to blink, and take in, not only what Harry was saying, but why he was saying it – Harry could tell, by the way she made a point of not looking towards Ginny and thereby possibly exacerbating the situation.

"Okay Harry." She said, nodding, and then continued in a forced, level voice, unable to end the argument completely. "All I am saying, Ron, is that Slytherin doesn't seem to hate non-Purebloods universally, or be anywhere near as, well, as much of a _dark wizard_ as we assumed he was. I'm not saying I like him."

"Can we just drop it?" Harry pleaded.

Ron made a noise which could have meant just about anything, so Harry took it to be the one he most wanted – an assent.

"But we didn't do anything like the things it says in the diary when we did History of Magic, did we?" Harry asked eventually. "I thought Muggle witch burnings didn't usually work?"

"Of course it doesn't say all of this, well, at least not when we're only, say, twelve or thirteen." Hermione said, regaining her instructive, reasoning tone of voice. "Can you imagine hearing about that kind of thing at that age? Besides, it's only natural that you read this kind of thing in the diary, because one of the reasons they built Hogwarts was to give witches and wizards somewhere safe to be, and practice magic. Maybe it didn't happen that often that they hurt the true witches or wizards." She stopped and exhaled. "And, I guess, especially now that most Muggles don't believe in magic, the Ministry want to brush that part of history under the rug, and they'd hardly mention that witches and wizards might have been doing it back, would they?"

Harry tossed her the diary. "Here, read through it all you want. I didn't really feel like looking through it any more right now – and that was before all that. Hell you can probably keep it."

"Why do you want to reread it anyway, Hermione?" Ron asked curiously, putting the argument behind him.

"Because there's something about it that doesn't make sense: it's as if…" Hermione frowned. "It's as if there's something missing. Slytherin isn't mentioned again after he leaves Hogwarts, and don't you think that's strange when Pierre was allowed to call him by his first name? Doesn't that suggest that they might have had some contact later on, at some point? And the same with Ara – she goes in search of Salazar Slytherin, and then she disappears for good. You'd think that somewhere, there'd be a trace of her. And Pierre seems to go missing for a matter of years, before the diary starts again."

"Maybe he just stopped writing in his diary for a while?" Ron suggested.

"What if he tried to figure out what happened to his parents?" Harry said, remembering the piece he had just read. "I know I probably would have wanted to. Maybe he didn't have time to write in a diary, or wrote in a different one."

"That's a good point actually, Harry." Hermione allowed. "_I_ wondered if he might have gone looking for Slytherin himself. But that's what's even more annoying – these could all be completely different things. Maybe Ara ended up dying, or searched for years without any success, and never found Slytherin."

"Hang on!" Ron said excitedly. "What if it says something about Slytherin's Scrivenings, and the Scrivenings are protected by a Fidelius charm."

Harry frowned. "Wouldn't that stop you being able to even think of that though? I mean, if you work out what the Fidelius charm is hiding, then it doesn't really help, does it."

"But it's not like we have any idea of what the secret is." Ginny argued. "Isn't it more like Ron thinks there might be some secret there?"

The three of them looked at Hermione expectantly, who shrugged. "I don't know. I couldn't find many references to the Fidelius charm when I tried to find out about it. I think the books it's in might be in the Restricted Section. What about that book Professor Aravenne gave you Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah – that told you how to cast spells, not anything else. Maybe Slytherin just had nothing to do with him afterwards because he married a Muggleborn. Or maybe no-one found Slytherin, and that's why he isn't mentioned."

"Well someone had to find him at some point." Ginny pointed out. She raised an eyebrow as all three looked at her. "He had to have had kids didn't he? V- Well, you know, the Heir of Slytherin?"

Hermione looked mortified, as if overlooking the obvious was an offence that might be punishable by death. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way." She said, trying to collect herself. "Ginny's right – he had to have children, maybe we should be trying to figure out with whom, and try and trace her family instead."

"How do you know he just had kids with one woman?" Ron asked cheekily. "Maybe he left a whole string of ba-" He stopped, and rolled his eyes at Hermione. "What? It's a word isn't it? Fine… Maybe he left a whole string of _illegitimate children_ behind him."

Hermione continued to scowl at him.

"It doesn't help." Harry said dully, and then elaborated as Ginny and Ron looked at him. "If it was anyone Pierre knew, it'd have been Ara. She's a Parselmouth, she's nearest to his age, she set out in search of him."

Hermione flicked through the pages at the start of the diary, and then added. "And it looks like Godric Gryffindor thought Slytherin had an ulterior motive for bringing her to Hogwarts from what Pierre writes."

"So we're back to this whole Ara and Slytherin and Gwen and Pierre thing." Harry said. "And we don't even know if the Scrivenings exist, let alone if anyone's family has anything to do with it."

"Great team talk there Harry," Ron grinned, "Up-'n-at-'em boys!"

Harry made a face. "I told you I'd be a rubbish captain, remember?"

"Look," Ginny said firmly, "if I know Ron, he's hardly touched the diary-"

"Hey!" Ron cried, looking mildly insulted; Ginny ignored him.

"- so it's up to you two. Is there anything in there which might say something about Ara's family?"

"Not really. Just that her father saved Gwen. I don't remember her surname ever being mentioned. Pierre doesn't mention her father's name either; it's almost as if it's done on purpose." Hermione allowed, and then rifled through the pages, flicking towards the back of the diary. "Although maybe there was no real need. Pierre didn't exactly write his diary with the idea of letting people who might read it centuries later know who he was talking about."

"Maybe it _was_ done on purpose." Harry suggested.

Hermione's finger stopped moving. "You're not really helping Harry."

Harry shrugged. He'd been feeling pessimistic for the last couple of weeks, it wasn't a matter of trying to be helpful or not. Hermione shook her head, and continued to flick through pages.

"No, seriously. Maybe their family had a bad history, and they didn't want to be recognised. I mean – Ara is – _was_ – a Parselmouth. If others in the family had been at some point then maybe others feared them. I mean people seemed more suspicious then, and look at what happened nowadays when the school found out I could speak to snakes." Harry continued.

"Or maybe it was the opposite, and they didn't want to be recognised for being really good at something." Ginny suggested, with a hint of a mischievous grin.

Ron snorted with laughter, and made a point of looking directly at Harry. "Yeah, we know what that's like from school too, don't we?"

Harry scowled at him.

"I suppose they might have wanted secrecy for some reason. Maybe it's similar to the reason they both abandoned their surnames." Hermione allowed. "But we're talking about the man who married his foster-daughter here."

"Did they even meet?" Ron asked. "Pierre and Mr Anonymous? And maybe he just saved her, but wasn't her foster father?"

Hermione's eyes moved around the room without seeing, as though in thought. "Yes, I'm pretty sure he was… but I'm not sure they did meet now you mention it... I guess I can have a look and see for that in the diary first. Come to think of it, I don't actually remember reading about him when they got married."

She looked a little unenthusiastic, as if even her love of reading was dampened somewhat by the size of the task – suggesting to Harry that the diary did indeed have a lot more pages than it looked like; normally she would have jumped at the opportunity to read – or reread – a nice long book. Not that Harry wasn't sympathetic to the possibility she might have to look carefully through the whole book in order to find anything out – most of the diary entries probably consisted of Pierre trying to figure out why exactly Gwen was hurt all the time, or else maybe it got really _soppy_. And he was pretty sure _he_ would probably skip through any of the bits about Gwen's injuries, or her family now, if he even managed to muster the strength to continue. Hermione had already read it once. He stopped. Something had just hit him.

"Hermione." He shook his head slowly as he double checked his idea, and paused. "I don't think you have to worry about that actually." He paused again, and then launched into the question with some of his own. "Do you remember when Pierre got his wand he noticed all Gwen's bruises were gone? And that she didn't go to get a wand either, like Ara?"

"Vaguely." Hermione said, in a tone which suggested she was trying to divine Harry's meaning.

"And that Ara was out watching everyone get their wands, even though she already had one."

"Yes." Hermione replied slowly.

"Get on with it Harry, you're getting as bad as Hermione – what's the point?" Ron said, a trace of humour in his voice.

Both Harry and Hermione gave Ron dirty looks; Harry continued while Hermione glared. "Well, what if that was because the man who had saved Gwen – Ara's father – was there, at Hogwarts? And maybe Ara wasn't watching the students, but rather-"

"Ollivander!" Hermione said, dawning comprehension in her voice. "That makes sense Harry – Ara had to come from a family that knew a lot about magic. And there'd be no need for her to get a wand that better suited her. And if Gwen would let anyone heal her, of course it would be the one who rescued her."

"No need to sound so surprised." Harry said, putting a touch of pseudo-offence in his voice, just to wind her up, but grinned after a couple of seconds, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Great piece of deduction, but, assuming Dumbledore hasn't worked it out too, that helps… how?" Ron said, wrecking the moment of triumph.

Harry and Hermione both opened their mouths, but made no sound.

"Well it's still worth telling Dumbledore." Ginny said firmly. "Maybe he can find something out about where Ara ended up through the Ollivanders' history."

"That's if the Ollivanders let us look through their personal history." Ron pointed out again.

Harry glared at him. "And you complained about my 'pep talk'."

Ron made a wry face. "Yay – more research – go, go, go. That better?"

Ginny stifled a giggle. "Yes Ron; because you have really been knocking yourself out working on the diary."

"I've been working as hard as you have on it." Ron retorted, a little defensively.

"Well, I guess there's one easy way to check if Ara really was an Ollivander." Harry said.

Ron sighed. "Where are we going now then?"

"_You_ don't have to go anywhere." Harry told him. "I just go and ask Slytherin's familiars. Well, Shiakana, anyway. I doubt Kaen will want to be much help. Even if they don't know for sure, they might be able to say something that will help. I could ask them about Gwen too – if Slytherin didn't like her, maybe the diary isn't any help at all."

"Oh." Ron said. There was a general pause, before he continued. "Well, have fun. Not much I can do to help you with that, is there?"

"I'll go down with you." Ginny and Hermione both said simultaneously – but in two contrasting tones of voice.

Hermione seemed to have no qualms, Ginny however, sounded like she didn't really want to go at all.

"You don't have to go down." Harry said, and then shrugged helplessly under Ginny's glare. "Neither of you do. Look – _I_ don't like going down there, and I've talked to the snakes, and been there with Dumbledore. And I like it even less now I know they can do Legilimency, but at least I'm getting decent at defending myself now. It's not as if- It's not as if you have anything to _prove_ to anyone, Ginny."

"Yes; I do." Ginny said quietly, not making eye contact with anyone.

Ron frowned. "It's cold, dark, and miserable, you have to slide down pipes covered with centuries of muck, navigate rock falls, and then when you finally get there, what? Two carvings of snakes that _we_ can't even understand anyway. Oh yeah, and you have to go through Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to get there. It's not as if you'll even go inside, and if you do, you get to see the dead bones of a basilisk, and a place you-"

"I know." Ginny said through gritted teeth. "I made the trip a lot of times, Ron, even if I can only remember one of them."

"Th-"

"Ron." Hermione interrupted, in a pseudo- sweet voice. "Shut up."

Ron's ears went red, and he visibly stopped a retort, only with effort. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and then sighed and shook his head. "Shall we go now then?"

* * *

_A/N: This is a chapter where a horology problem crept in. While I was working out how I was setting out the story, I neglected to remember that I could hardly tell the diary all at once. The way I was going to do it would have worked in the real world, but not in the literary. I know: I'm an idiot. Anyway, in some ways I think it's better this way._

_The paintball... I must confess I've never had a chance to play it myself, so if anything sounds a little wrong to you pros out there, I'm sorry. I've never played Quidditch either, so any Quidditch players amongst you will have already thought the same things twice so far..._


	31. Discoveries

_A/N: Very many thanks for the reviews - they are very much appreciated - and I'm glad to see that the way I'm treating H/G is meeting general approval. _

* * *

**Chapter 31: Discoveries**

The trip down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom had been uneventful, or more accurately, had seen nothing out of the ordinary. The four of them _had_ passed Snape, in, typically, probably the longest, straightest corridor in the entire castle, which had resulted in a long, piercing glare, giving Harry the feeling he was trying to fathom just what they were up to, as well as an unpleasant period after they had passed where he had to fight not to turn around, as the itching feeling of being watched spread over his skin.

It was tempting to use the Marauder's Map the first chance they had, just to check that he wasn't following them, but – as Ron pointed out – it wasn't worth the risk, and, seeing as Dumbledore himself had given Harry the diary, and verbally suggested they turn their minds to it, it might even be amusing if Snape did follow them in an effort to put them in detention.

The immediate commotion as they entered the bathroom, by hindsight should also have been unsurprising, but it caught Harry, at least, completely unawares. Moaning Myrtle had been floating somewhere near the ceiling, with a perfect view of the door, as Harry entered, and Myrtle's uncharacteristic good spirits disappeared as quickly as they came, once she spotted persons number two (Hermione), and three (Ginny), enter the room behind him. She wasn't around to see Ron bring up the rear. A wave of water and desolate sobs, instead, was his greeting: perhaps as inexorably as the tide.

Hermione's reaction, the same as last time she and Harry had entered the Chamber, was an extremely un-Hermione like set of giggles, made all the more obvious by her attempts to hold them in. Ron let out a particularly Ron-like guffaw. Harry and Ginny, by contrast, both went red, and looked anywhere other than at each other. As a result, they both noticed Hermione's expression change to one of complete exasperation, and then mortification at being seen.

Harry swallowed past the strange lump in his throat, and walked towards the tap with the snake's engraving. His face was still burning, but he mulishly tried to act as if nothing was wrong. Ron advanced rather prominently to his right, and Hermione was busily applying the coat of film to protect herself from the filth in the pipes. Ginny had faded into the background behind Harry, and he was determined to continue not to look at her, no matter what Hermione or Ron said or did.

Harry hissed, the sink moved, and all of a sudden an extra coldness, and dankness hit them. Ron flinched, giving Harry a strange sense of satisfaction after Ron's earlier laugh, and comments in the Room of Requirement.

"Right." Harry said, trying to sound brisk. "Look, there really isn't any point you all coming down with me. It should just take a few minutes to walk there, a minute to ask the question, and then a few minutes back."

"We're going." Ron said, in a bizarre mix of firmness and disinclination.

"We've been through this." Hermione said dismissively.

"Besides," Ron said, "you've got a habit of getting into deadly peril from less dangerous things than this."

Ron looked unhappily into the black hole as he spoke. Irritated, Harry took a step forward, and reading his intent, Hermione quickly pointed her wand at Ron's back.

"Altecutis."

As the spell hit him, Ron found Harry's hand push him forward, and he fell, with a loud yell, into the gaping hole.

Hermione looked at him reproachfully.

"Yes, well, he was really getting on my nerves." Harry said in answer to the unspoken words of chastisement.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Harry could almost hear her think the word: 'Boys'. "I'd better go next."

She sat down, and then slid herself into the pipe rather more gracefully than Ron had entered it.

Harry looked around. Ginny was standing back from the entrance, looking rather nervous.

"You don't have to go." Harry said, in a tone of gentleness which surprised even himself.

"I do." Ginny said, with a touch of defiance, but her stance belied the strength in her voice.

Harry felt a protective feeling surge through him. "You don't. You've got nothing to prove to any of us. Look at Ron – if I hadn't pushed him, he'd probably never have gone down, and he hasn't got a reason nearly as good as you."

"Or you." Ginny pointed out.

"Trust me." Harry said, finding the admission easier than he had expected. "There are some places I never want to see again in my life."

"I have to go." Ginny said, shaking her head, and then brushing away a loose strand of hair. "I want to go." She qualified. "For myself, not anybody else."

She walked forwards a little timidly. "What was that spell Hermione used?"

"Oh." Harry said, his heart pounding for some strange reason. "Um, 'Altecutis'."

He said nothing as he watched her sit down, and gingerly slide her legs over the edge, until she was just about to let herself drop, when, with a wrench of will that was echoed by his voice, he spoke Ginny's name.

"Ginny," He repeated, "I'm sorry."

Ginny opened her mouth, but Harry ploughed ahead with unrehearsed words which seemed to be forming themselves.

"I can't risk it, not until Voldemort's gone. And not only because of what might happen to you. But because of what would happen to me."

He locked eyes with Ginny, and expressions of fear, and mortification played upon his face as he continued, admitting things he had barely allowed himself to consider before now.

"Ever since Sirius –" Harry stopped, and then tried again. "Look, you saw me in the Ministry at the trial. I told you I didn't really know what was happening." He gave a bitter, soundless breath of a laugh. "I still don't know what was going on, really. And it's happened again, it keeps happening; some times I don't feel in control at all. When I found out Snape had been the one to hear the Prophecy, or Malfoy sent the Avada Kedavra curse at Hermione, or, or when the Dementor had caught you." He could see the uncertainty reflected in his eyes from the mirror behind Ginny. "Sirius was… He was everything I hadn't had. And if we- And if you…" He felt his voice become throaty, as he resorted to leaving the words unsaid, but rather inferred. "I just… I'm not sure… if… I could cope." He finished, looking away, cursing himself for allowing his emotions to be seen.

"Harry." Ginny whispered, pushing herself back up.

Harry shook his head. "But maybe…" He managed to find strength to put in his voice. "Maybe when this is all over. When Voldemort is… gone…"

They locked eyes once more, as Ginny looked as though she was fighting an urge to say something, solely because she didn't know _what_ to say. Harry saw the moisture gather in her eyes. There was a pause that seemed both aeons long, and hiccough quick, until Ginny finally broke it. While she was searching for the right words to say; Harry felt that the long look had already explained more than anything else he might add. She finally abandoned words completely, and embraced him, leaving a wet patch on the shoulder of his robes.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The image of Sybil Trelawney, the one that Harry had seen from Dumbledore's Pensieve a year ago, began to grow clearer in his vision. He redoubled his efforts to push the Headmaster into another of the rooms – the room in which he stored happy memories relating to family and friends. He and Dumbledore had agreed that that was likely to be the area of Harry's mind which Voldemort would least like to be, and that should, theoretically, make it easier to push him out of his mind completely.

Abruptly they returned to the Arch Room, but not through Harry's effort. He remained trapped, pressed against the wall by Dumbledore's spell, and Dumbledore himself stood beside the Archway, his arm inside. A glance at the Archway was all it took to tell Harry that Dumbledore had left the memory of his own free will, rather than being pushed; unlike the other veils, this one had a lightning bolt emblazoned upon it. It was a cause of annoyance to Harry that the size of this lightning bolt dwarfed all other shapes in his Occlumency Sanctuary, but, thus far, he had been unable to shrink it. As it was, it was more of a target, than the clever piece of concealment he had hoped for.

Before Harry could attempt to form a shield in the forlorn hope he might be able to release himself, Dumbledore had nodded thoughtfully, and withdrawn his arm from the Archway. With another smooth gesture, the pressure upon Harry subsided, and he landed on his feet.

"Certainly a clever idea, Harry, although it obviously still needs some work."

Harry rolled his neck. "I can't see how I can reduce the size of the symbol though. Nothing I've tried has worked. Why _is _it so big? I never had to set the size of any of the others, and they are loads smaller. Is it because none of the other Archways hold memories?"

Dumbledore considered this for a moment. "I think not. Each 'room' is a completely separate entity in almost all respects; it is merely that, due to your defences, they all look the same. As much as this room –" He encompassed it with a gesture "– _appears_ to be the same as the room in which you begin, they remain entirely different. Perhaps… Tell me, Harry, do you truly fear the Prophecy? Do you even view it negatively? Many of the memories stored, or linked to by this room, are ones which you, quite justifiably, view with a certain lack of fondness."

"You mean hate." Harry grinned, and then stopped to consider the question. Truth be told, he had just automatically assumed that this was the right place to put it.

"Do you mean that the only reason the symbol is so large, is because my subconscious doesn't think it should be here?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I think so. Remember that the whole point of these symbols are to direct you through your Sanctuary. If a memory, or memories, were stored in an area that your feelings about it fail to harmonise with, then naturally the descriptor would be larger, for it has disrupted the organisation of your mind.

"Tell me Harry – how _do_ you consider the Prophecy?"

"I'm not really sure." Harry said slowly.

He had grown more accepting of it, now that he came to think about it. After all, what had he told Ginny? That maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Maybe, rather than something which had destroyed his life, it was a little like the knowledge that allowed him to produce the Patronus in third year. He had been able to do that because he knew he could, after seeing it beforehand. The Prophecy was a little like that, after all. In an odd way, it was almost comforting. An exceptionally odd way.

"But… I think you're right." Harry said eventually. "This isn't the right place to put it."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dumbledore lifted the Legillimency. It was a matter of pride to Harry that he was now able to bear the transition from one to the other without any loss of orientation whatsoever.

"We'll leave that part of your practice for now, Harry." Dumbledore said. "It would not be of any help to continue, when you will be re-examining it anyway."

Harry nodded, but barely heard what Dumbledore had said. Seeing the Prophecy like that, had pushed aside thoughts of Occlumency, and brought thoughts of Voldemort, Slytherin's Scrivenings, and Moreau's diary firmly back into the front of his mind. It had obviously shown, for Dumbledore fixed him with the piercing glare that showed the keenness of his intelligence.

"Is something preying on your mind, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "Well, there were a couple of things about the diary."

"Oh yes?" Dumbledore asked, taking a seat, and signalling Harry to do likewise.

"Well, Hermione-" Harry swiftly studied Dumbledore's face, almost expecting a hint of amusement, "- and I were talking, and we think Ara's father was probably the same Ollivander who was wandmaker at the time."

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree-"

"We checked with Shiakana and Kaen, as well." Harry added in a rush, feeling that his reasoning had been for nought, if Dumbledore already thought the same. "And Shiakana said that Ara's family were wandmakers."

"Ah." Dumbledore said in approval. "Then perhaps that settles it."

"We thought that if Salazar Slytherin was going to have a relationship with anyone in the diary, it would be Ara." Harry added, although somehow he felt that this had somehow been already acknowledged between them – even though it hadn't been mentioned at all.

Again, Dumbledore nodded. "Then we have a consensus about that also, for Severus also came to the same conclusion."

"Does it help?" Harry asked eagerly.

Dumbledore paused. "It does, if merely by the fact that it gives us another avenue to pursue. How easy it will be to gain the information we are searching for is another matter."

"But why? Surely Mr Ollivander would want to help us against Voldemort, wouldn't he?"

Dumbledore paused again, as if considering the best way to frame his explanation. "Wandmakers have a rather unique position in the world. Few people have the skill to make a standard of wand which reaches an acceptable level – let alone the level which Mr Ollivander produces. As a result, throughout history wandmakers have remained neutral. They choose no sides, knowing that whosoever emerges the victor will require their skills, and so that they are in a position of power, for neither side dares attack a wandmaker, given that if the wandmakers are dead, then who will provide their wands?"

"But-" Harry began in confusion, "but how can anyone not want to stop Voldemort? Anyone apart from Death Eaters that is."

"Ah, Harry. For people such as you or I, there is no choice to make, but, unfortunately…" He sighed. "Let me put it like this: it is unlikely that Death Eaters believe that they are doing wrong under Tom's service; perhaps a very few, but I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't find a single one. In fact, many of them likely believe they are fighting the equivalent of a religious war. If we fail, then future generations may grow up thinking of the Death Eaters as heroes. Similarly, wandmakers have a different viewpoint of life. Perhaps it has been influenced by self preservation, perhaps, in order to be a great wandmaker, then you have to have less interest in the affairs of man, than in the construction of wands. Indeed I believe that to be the case with the current Mr Ollivander."

"Have you -?" Harry started, but stopped as Dumbledore nodded, completing the unfinished question.

"I have opened a dialogue with him, yes. However, before we can risk informing him of what exactly we are searching for, we shall need to either overcome his neutrality, or else appeal to his scholastic interest. As one of the few people who are aware of what we are searching for, not to mention your knowledge of Parseltongue, I may require your help at some point, given that Mr Ollivander allows us to search." Dumbledore added. "But you mentioned two matters you wished to raise?"

Harry nodded, took a deep breath, and then began obliquely. "Sir, what happens if people read something about 12 Grimmauld Place, seeing as it has the Fidelius charm on it?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly in inquiry. "We are fortunate, in that Sirius' ancestors have made their house as difficult to find over the years as possible, quite apart from our own spells of course, which limits the chances of that happening. However, if such a thing does happen, then depending on the context, they will not be able to read it, or else, will simply not see anything relating to its location."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "But won't they think that odd?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No doubt they would, if they were aware that there was information they couldn't see. But for that to be the case, then they would already know about the Fidelius charm. Remember that these people have no reason to suspect the existence of the charm in the first place.

"Similarly, if somebody other than the Secret Keeper attempts to divulge the secret, intentionally or no, then either the listeners will be unable to hear the information, or the informant will find themselves unable to voice it. Practically this has always resulted in the same thing, although," he continued thoughtfully, "now that Muggles also have ways to record information and sounds – more particularly, ways which do not require an intelligent conduit, like for example, Pensieves do – it has perhaps grown in significance."

"So, basically it is impossible to work out if a Fidelius charm has been used, because the spell either makes you forget, or stops you hearing the secret in the first place."

"Not exactly." Dumbledore corrected. "It stops you from working out what is _concealed_ by the spell. Nothing, spell or otherwise, can impact upon itself. How, for example, could you set the target of the spell, if that target is not there until the spell has been completed?"

That sort of made sense to Harry, although he had to work through it twice, so he nodded. "So, if you work out there's a Fidelius charm there, how do you get past it?"

"The Fidelius Charm is very complicated, both in practice, and in theory, so pray excuse me if my explanation appears convoluted.

"Imagine the Fidelius charm as a lock, and the secret being hidden behind the lock. Now, rather than a chest, or a locked room, imagine that the secret is hidden inside a bubble, which can grow, or shrink, depending on just how hard the Fidelius charm has to work in order to protect it. The larger a bubble grows, then the more likely it is to burst; similarly with the Fidelius charm. The harder the charm has to work to preserve the secret, the more likely it is to fail. Remember that by definition, if the secret once becomes known, or in other words, is no longer a secret, then the spell dissipates. Now, like any lock, there are a number of ways to open it."

"You mean keys?" Harry suggested.

Dumbledore smiled. "An adequate analogy. The Secret Keeper dispenses 'personalised' 'keys', if you will, then, which work only for the person originally given them. However, I meant to say access the information in a clandestine manner."

"So, pick the lock?" Harry hazarded.

An expression of true amusement played upon Dumbledore's face. "Although I doubt many curse breakers would appreciate the comparison, yes, you could pick the lock. If a wizard succeeds in fooling the spell into believing he has been granted permission by the Secret Keeper, then it behaves, to all intents and purposes, as though he has been granted a key. Of course, if by accessing the spell you – by design or accident – end up 'breaking' the lock, then the spell disperses completely, leaving the secret open to the world once more. Both methods require a lot of skill to effect, and also a magical link to the spell itself, or in other words, working out that the charm is in effect on a given item. As your questions have pointed out, that is a rather difficult piece of knowledge to attain.

"There is one other way to access forbidden information, however." As Harry showed no sign of volunteering it, Dumbledore continued. "Brute force. It is possible to overload any charm, if you input enough power.

"But, may I enquire as to what the interest in the Fidelius charm stems from?"

Harry hesitated. "Well, it was Ron who thought of it to begin with actually, but- Hermione felt that the diary seemed to be missing something. We wondered if a Fidelius charm might be concealing some of the diary, maybe because it had reference to the Scrivenings of Slytherin."

Dumbledore gave him another piercing look. "It is possible. However I did originally check for any unusual magical influences upon the diary." He paused for a few seconds, deep in thought. "That does not mean I may not have missed something. What it does mean, is that if a Fidelius charm is in effect upon the diary, then either it is of a form I have never seen before, or else, it is perhaps better hidden than I believed possible. However, given the subject of our search, I would be foolish if I did not allow for either possibility."

Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and began a long, complicated gesture which threatened to cross Harry's eyes. At length, Dumbledore laid out his left hand, and the old, battered collection of pages nestled upon his palm. It looked in better condition than it had at 12 Grimmauld Place, for the pages didn't threaten to float away at the slightest breeze, although the so-called spine still didn't look like it was attached to anything.

"This may take a while." He warned, and then studied Harry for a brief moment with a twinkle in his eye. "But I can see it needs to be done before we even consider returning to your Occlumency."

A stroke of the wand, and the papers contained in the diary seemed to shift slightly, as though Dumbledore had just removed whatever magic had held them in place. He didn't say a word, but his body seemed to relax, and his eyes grew distant. After a few seconds, they closed completely, causing Harry to learn forward nervously. At length, the Headmaster opened his eyes and shook his head.

"I do not sense anything." As Harry's disappointment showed, Dumbledore continued. "But that does not, however, mean that there is nothing there."

He rested the book on the table, settling it into a tidy pile, before making a gentle gesture with his wand, and a muttered incantation beyond Harry's hearing.

The book arose off the table, without so much as a page moving from the pile. Shapes began to appear across it, in a multitude of colours and sizes, forming a latticework. It began to revolve in midair revealing similar patterns on its base and sides, and, Harry was sure, on each page inside the diary. He watched, enthralled, as the shapes pulsed, and then winked out, becoming completely transparent, as Dumbledore tested each one for the magic he was searching for. The process started off slowly, sped up to a flurry of colours, and then slowed once more, until the final pieces blinked out, leaving the original book again, as it continued to revolve.

Or was it the original book?

As Harry scanned the covers eagerly, looking for anything out of the ordinary, the ragged spine caught his attention, but why he couldn't say. He studied it, up and down, until his eyes alighted upon a speck of dirt midway down. It would have been completely unremarkable, if it weren't for the fact that nowhere else on the book at all – since Dumbledore had begun the charm – was a second speck, or blemish. As he gazed at it, it flickered. Harry blinked, and stared at it once more. Just as he thought he had imagined it, it flickered again.

"There." Harry breathed.

The book stopped spinning, although it remained floating above the table.

"Where?" Dumbledore asked with a searching look.

"On the spine." Harry said, reaching out carefully to point the speck out. He could have sworn it pulsed once more as he did so.

Dumbledore studied it carefully, before allowing the book to alight upon the table, and the spell to fade. As it did so, the speck faded also.

"Interesting." Dumbledore said quietly, revealing surprise. "I have never before heard of magic quite so able to conceal itself." He looked up at Harry, leaning back in thought. "Ordinarily, you see, the spell I just used would show wherever magic is in effect. The different shapes you saw resembled places magic may have been used to erase mistakes in the writing, or mend split or torn pages, and the like. Here, however, that dot suggests that the traces of the magical signature have been focussed into one small, unobtrusive spot."

He picked the diary up once more, and then shook his head.

"I confess that whatever magic has been hidden in this way, is currently beyond my knowledge." He inclined his head towards Harry. "Thank you Harry. This had managed to escape my notice once, and likely would have once more without the benefit of your suggestion, and sharp eyes."

Harry almost reflexively moved his hand to his glasses. He'd never thought of his eyes as sharp before. "So-" He began, "what now?"

"It appears I have work to do." Dumbledore replied thoughtfully and glanced at his watch. "It is perhaps too late to continue your Occlumency tonight, anyway. I think we should call it a night."

Harry nodded, and then, remembering that if it was the Fidelius charm, and Dumbledore made just one misstep, the information could be available to everyone, including Voldemort, added three words to his normal goodnight.

"Good luck sir."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Hermione vanished. Harry gave an involuntary jump, and Ron swore. As one, both of them looked as one to the opposite side of the Great Hall. Hermione was straightening up, as though her knees had buckled slightly from the landing.

"I'm surprised she didn't make a perfect landing too." Harry said ironically, as Professor Flitwick showed his delight.

"Forget that," Ron muttered in return, "_I'm_ surprised she's actually walking back here, rather than it being a two way Portkey."

Harry chuckled. The Hufflepuffs were eying her a little jealously, and, as always, the main thing that mollified the Gryffindors, was the amount of house points Hermione won for them by invariably being the first to master a new technique. To be fair to her, she did try her best to avoid looking smug as she rejoined them, to grudging congratulations from Ron and Harry.

"You two could do it too, if you just made an effort to understand the theory." She told them earnestly.

Spotting Harry and Ron exchanging looks, Hermione raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

"Don't give me that rubbish about me somehow finding it easier to memorise theory than you two. It's not memorising – it's just understanding the concepts behind the theory. You don't have to learn anything off by heart."

Harry and Ron swapped looks once more. Ron motioned with his eyes for Harry to try and explain to Hermione.

"It's like flying." Harry began after a moment's pause. "To us, it's really hard to understand why you don't like it, or find it easy. I mean, it's not just that we really enjoy it, but we do things naturally that you don't. You might have to try really hard to learn things, which we don't have to. It's the same with this – there are things you just understand that we don't."

"It doesn't stop you two from trying to get me to fly though, does it?" Hermione pointed out.

Ron shared yet another glance, and then sighed, with the faintest of winks to Harry. "Fine. We'll try to stop going on about you learning to fly properly."

Hermione's face was a picture. "But this is really important – I mean, Portkeys could save your life. Look at what happened in the Ministry at Christmas-"

The hidden grin on Ron's face froze. Harry tried not to notice.

"-if Percy hadn't known how to create a Portkey, then-" Hermione stopped speaking as she belatedly noticed the colour draining from Ron's face.

There was a moment's silence, when the noise around them felt deafening. It was Ron who broke it, in a quiet, serious tone.

"Okay then Hermione, how do we go about showing the Portkey just where we want to go then?"

The awkward moment passed; Harry remained lost for words.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The days before Easter began to pass quickly, as though everything of note was just waiting to happen at once. While Dumbledore continued to work hard upon the hidden magic in the diary, he was unwilling to speak too much about it, so much so, in fact, that Harry remained unsure as to whether it was indeed the Fidelius charm or not. The fact that this spell had been so well concealed meant that Harry remained confident that Ron's guess might have found the mark, especially as it would explain Dumbledore's reticence. It could just quite simply be caution arising from an uncertainty as to how strong the charm could be.

Gaining Mr Ollivander's help also seemed to be taking a while, or maybe he and Dumbledore had just yet come to an agreement to search for any link to the Scrivenings. As he had suspected he would, Harry had pretty much given up on the diary. Not only was he sick and tired of it, but it seemed to have served its purpose. Plus Hermione had finished it, and he expected that if anything else was to come of it, Hermione would have already worked it out. It was far more her area of expertise than his. Perhaps it was a slightly feckless attitude to take, but he had enough on his plate as it was.

Snape's classes, as always, required his full attention, and his homework – if Harry was to continue to avoid the threatened expulsion – took a big chunk of his time. The wandless magic lessons, of course, remained draining – as did the Occlumency, as Harry continued to look for the best room to put his memory of the Prophecy. Remarkably, the best place at the moment was near his happy memories, although its marker remained slightly bigger than he would have wished.

The thought struck Harry that he might not have a section of his Occlumency devoted to feelings similar to the ones the Prophecy evoked in him. Considering the complexity of them, that, perhaps, wasn't particularly surprising. Perhaps he ought to consider it as a memory he drew strength from. To begin with, he laughed at the idea of drawing strength from the Killing Curse, but that was the right descriptor for the Prophecy, he knew it was.

Apart from the question of where to put the Prophecy, his Occlumency seemed to have reached a plateau. He had put up enough rules to cause Dumbledore an inconvenience at the very least, and, obviously, the Headmaster was intimately aware of how exactly he had structured his defences. Which meant, despite the fact that he was making little progress in continuing to strengthen them, he had hope that his defences would prove strong enough to repel them against anyone coming up against them for the first time, including Voldemort, or Snape, were the Potions' Master to attempt to try anything once more.

The Portkeys, meanwhile, remained outside of Harry's grasp of understanding. While Hermione seemed to have perfected Portkeys at the short distances they were able to practice with, nothing she suggested seemed to have a lasting effect upon his attempts. Ron was very erratic – his Portkeys varied from not doing anything, to going where they were meant to, to, rather alarmingly, exploding. On one particularly combustible occasion, only the fact that Hermione was as much supervising them, as making her own Portkeys, saved Ron from going to the Hospital Wing with severe burns. Harry's attempts tended to lose heart half-way, meaning he had, at various times, collided with walls, other students, and even, once, to his great embarrassment, with Professor Flitwick.

The only consolation was that few other students were doing much better.

Hermione was showing an unusual amount of forbearance, and regularly attempted to simplify the theory for them. Unfortunately, as Harry complained more than once, each time he felt he had gained some understanding, he had lost it again by the time they came to practice once more. That appeared the one thing that Room of Requirement was unable to offer: a place to practice Portkeys. Either that or they had been unable to word their requests well enough to produce it. It was hardly surprising, Harry supposed, after all, with the amount of defensive wards surrounding the castle, and even more protecting the grounds from Apparition, Portkeys, and even Flooing, let alone more mundane forms of transport, it would be a miracle – not to mention a safety risk – if the Room could get around them.

Ron, getting desperate, had written to his two eldest brothers, just in case they could provide any helpful suggestions. They didn't – but their letters back did succeed in reviving Ron and Harry's flagging spirits. Bill had only learnt himself once he had taken on his job with Gringotts, and Charlie had only been taught by Professor Flitwick _after_ he had taken his N.E.W.T.s, as an elective, whilst the rest of the school finished their terms. Given just how well Bill had done at Hogwarts, the fact that he hadn't even studied it in school made Ron in particular, feel much better.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Potter," Snape began in his lowest, most dangerous tone of voice, the one generally reserved for Harry, "that is the third serious mistake you have made in this lesson so far. You will start again, and Merlin help me, if it is not of a standard I consider adequate, you shall return and brew it this evening."

Ron's look said everything – it was the last Quidditch practice before Easter tonight.

"Is that understood, Potter?"

Harry nodded stiffly.

Snape looked particularly dangerous today. Black bags supported his eyes, and what could have been a bruise adorned his chin. His greasy hair had been curtaining most of his face, shielding it from view. Either he had managed to walk into a number of solid, immovable objects, or else, well, Harry was pretty sure he knew where the damage had come from. He wasn't so naïve as to believe any lack of support for Voldemort on Snape's part. Tom Riddle tortured his followers – he tortured, and then killed his enemies.

A painful nudge from Hermione broke up his thoughts, and caused Harry to blink. His cauldron was still empty. Rather than risk attracting Snape's malevolent attention once more, he scanned the ingredients he had hastily cut. He reached for his pestle – he had to squash the fibres of the dewberries.

Wishing he could quash the speculation as to how Snape got his injuries quite as simply, Harry worked hard on his Occlumency, and concentrated on his work. Quite apart from the bruises, Snape was blatantly in a bad mood, and it was well known in the Hogwarts' sixth year – quite possibly throughout the school in fact – that the thing that cheered Snape up the most, was tormenting Harry. The practice Harry had at staying out of Dudley's way helped Harry to some extent, but being taught by Snape was different to being in the same school or house as Dudley.

"Miss Granger," Snape barked suddenly, "how long must a Blood Replenishing potion be left to mature before use?"

Hermione raised her head from the potion she was working on without a jerk (which would have caused disaster for her potion, as she had in her hand a tiny vial of blood, which had to be stirred in gradually for the duplication process to work), and also, without revealing the eye she had been keeping on Harry's potion.

"Three cycles of the full moon, sir." She replied, and continued before Snape could open his mouth. "But it will only be half as strong as if it is left in carefully prepared storage for a full year."

Harry bent over his potion to hide a smirk. Snape should have learnt by now that you couldn't take Hermione by surprise when it came to academic questions. He reached for the next ingredients, and continued to hide his grin. After the practice the Weasley twins had given her, it was getting harder to surprise her full stop.

"So you would advise leaving a blood replenishing potion to brew for as long as possible then, Miss Granger?" Snape continued.

"No sir. If it is left for another complete cycle of the moon after the year, without proper storage spells, then it is useless.

"I see." Snape said, obstinately refusing to give Hermione credit. "Mr Potter." He continued, in a voice dripping with malice. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten us as to the name of the potion you are brewing?"

Harry bit his tongue, and forced himself to reply in a level tone. "A blood Replenishing potion."

"Really?" Snape replied in a tone that could only be described as mocking, and raised his eyebrows. "And what, Mr Potter, is the purpose of that potion?"

Several Slytherins sniggered: most prominently, Malfoy.

"To allow the body to create blood for itself, if it has suffered a large amount of blood loss, sir."

"So it is intended to heal a patient?" Snape sneered.

Harry's fist clenched around the deadly nightshade in his hand, but he managed to control his expression and voice, almost perfectly, apart from a narrowing of his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Then perhaps you would like to explain, _Mr Potter_, why you are about to put belladonna into your potion, without first chopping it with enchanted silver to reduce the effect of the atropine inside it?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Assuming you haven't produced a workable potion by the end of this lesson, a safe assumption I would imagine, then you will return this evening. And you will remain here until you produce a potion which will suffice – until the morning if necessary."

Harry gritted his teeth. He would be willing to give superb odds that there were people in the classroom whose potions were as bad as, or, more probably, worse, than any of his had been.

"Is that understood, Potter?" Snape asked in a dangerous voice.

It was going to be a long three quarters of an hour until the bell rang for the end of the lesson. It promised to be an even longer night.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Sit."

Harry glared at Snape, and then, very slowly, managed to take his seat with as much dignity as possible, slipping his robe onto the back of his chair.

Snape finally looked up from the papers he was marking, and gave Harry a cold smile. "Begin."

Harry breathed deeply, once, and then bent to remove his book, and equipment. He was rather impressed with himself: for each second he remained calm, he was disproving Snape's mocking belief that he couldn't control his emotions in the face of provocation. He looked up once more, wondering if he could point that fact out to Snape with a look, but Snape had resumed his work.

Seconds dragged into minutes, as he double and treble checked each word, let alone line. With no Hermione nearby to help, he couldn't afford any mistake. As much as Snape hated Harry's company, he had sounded determined to make things as difficult as possible for him today. Mistakes in the brewing of the potion would just provide him with free ammunition. A couple of times Harry had felt Snape's eyes upon him, presumably waiting for an error to seize upon, and it took a great deal of will not to look up and lose his concentration. That had been why he had made the mistake about the deadly nightshade: he had been listening to Hermione.

The thought entered his head that maybe Snape had planned it to be that way. He didn't dismiss it out of hand.

After over half an hour of painstaking effort, Harry relaxed. The potion had to simmer for ten minutes before he could continue. As though he had sensed the change in atmosphere, Snape chose that moment to speak.

"Who did you tell about the diary, Potter?" His voice was soft, silky, and surprisingly intense.

Harry looked up, nonplussed.

As Snape repeated the question, Harry saw a nasty, almost manic, glint in his eyes. Harry had to stop himself reaching for his wand.

"I asked you, Potter, who you told about the discovery Albus made about Moreau's diary being under a secrecy spell of some sort."

"The discovery Professor Dumbledore and _I_ made?" Harry responded, trying to control his voice. Provoking Snape in this mood was more than foolish, but it was virtually a foregone conclusion to happen before his time in the Potions' classroom was through. "Why do _you_ know about that?"

"That was not the question, Potter." Snape snarled, standing up. "The Dark Lord knows, Potter. Either you or your little friends have told people you shouldn't have, or you are still so incapable when it comes to Occlumency, that He can pluck the information he requires straight out of your head."

"Is that what this is about?" Harry spat. "You want an excuse to try and get into my head?"

"Are you truly this dense, Potter, or is it a deliberate act?" A more controlled bite was gathering in Snape's tone. "Perhaps you have an irrational belief in your freakish luck, and think that even if the Dark Lord discovers the Scrivenings you will somehow waltz through his increased magical knowledge?"

"You're the person most likely to have told him. We're hardly going to talk about it when other people can hear, are we? The whole reason he's after them is to kill me." Harry pushed back his seat, and stood also, despite a small, Hermione's sounding voice, telling him it was a mistake. The voice corresponding to Ron in his head was telling him to curse the git.

Snape made a disgusted sound. "You're as arrogant as your father: believing the whole world revolves around you. Do you really think you're the only one at increased risk if the Dark Lord has his way? Imagine, if you can, if the Scrivenings contain knowledge that supplements his already formidable Legillimency? Every single operative the Order or the Ministry has in place would be compromised. All resistance would be swept away, and within a few years the Dark Lord would be in power, and every magical being left alive would follow him."

Harry just glared at him. Part of him wanted to confront Snape right there. The rest warned him to stay under control, and not antagonise the Potions master. For once, caution won out – for the moment.

With an expression of loathing on his face, Snape swept back the hair on his right side, revealing a number of ugly welts, along with a nasty red cut, which went from ear to neck. The rest of his face remained hidden, as if there was worse damage there. The danger in his voice increased in proportion to the decrease in volume, and his tone lowered to a whisper.

"As you can see, I have already suffered for not informing the Dark Lord immediately. I am, perhaps fortunate to be standing here, but I only managed to maintain my cover by compromise. So you will tell me, and tell me now. _Who have you told?_"

Harry gave him a long hard look. He tried to ignore the comment about compromise. It almost sounded as if Snape truly regretted giving away any information. If he believed him, Harry would be in danger of feeling sorry for him; sorry for the person who had caused his parents to die.

"Who did you betray this time, then?" Harry burst out in a surge of anger.

Snape's face tautened. "Ten points, Potter."

"I lose ten points for asking a simple question?"

Harry had the distinct feeling that Snape was itching to curse him.

"I had no choice." Snape said, quietly, eyes gleaming.

"There's always a choice. You can do what's right, or what's easy." Harry said, paraphrasing Dumbledore.

"True." Snape said. "I could have died, and lost the one source of reliable information Albus has. That would have been the easy choice."

The confrontation wasn't going the way Harry had hoped. Snape was sounding dangerously martyr-ish.

"Well, however he found out, it wasn't because of us." Harry returned to the point at hand, seeking for a level tone once more. "So _if_ it wasn't you who told Voldemort," Harry couldn't help the small smile when Snape recoiled at the name, "then maybe it was the same person who told him about the raid the Order and the Ministry made weeks ago. Assuming that wasn't you too."

Harry glared into the bottomless blackness of Snape's pupils.

Time seemed to freeze as they met each others eyes with mutual hatred.

"I have told you before, Potter," Snape ground out, "to not say the Dark Lord's name."

"And Professor Dumbledore has told me before to use it." Harry replied, not blinking, or looking away, and ready to test his Occlumency defences if needed.

"Are you questioning my-" Snape stopped with a gasp, and seemed to lose his balance for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess I am." Harry burst out savagely, no longer caring about keeping his temper in check, not sure if Snape thought he was questioning his loyalty, or his bravery. The nerve of Snape to accuse him of telling Voldemort about the diary. He would assume it was the former. "After all, you're the spy in Voldemort's-"

"Come. Wand out, Potter." Snape said, recollecting himself. It was almost as though he hadn't heard Harry. He turned, and moved to the door.

Harry didn't move.

"My wards have been breached, Potter." Snape hissed without turning, giving the impression that without looking, he still knew Harry remained stationary.

"Wards?" Harry repeated blankly. His mind was still seething towards Snape, but Snape was behaving as if he hadn't even heard Harry's accusation.

"Yes Potter, wards. Now move."

In fact, maybe it was a good thing Snape seemed not to have heard him, Harry thought, recollecting himself. He had pushed Snape dangerously far. He withdrew his wand from his pocket, took a step, and then stopped again, putting the robe he had taken off when he entered back on, and digging in its pockets.

"Potter." Snape snapped, turning angrily. "Is it too much too ask that one time in your life – just one time – _you will_ _do what you are told_?"

Harry ignored him, fingers closing upon the Marauder's map. Before he could withdraw it, however, the normally morose voice of Moaning Myrtle was raised excitedly, causing him to jump. She must have descended through the ceiling, for when he looked up again, she was barely two feet away from him, if a number of feet off the ground. Harry took a step backwards, and almost fell over the chair he had vacated.

"Harry! Harry! The rat!"

"The rat?" Suddenly, as though a switch had been flicked, everything made sense. "You mean _Wormtail_?"

He kicked away the chair, and practically vaulted over the desk.

"Have you told Professor Dumbledore, Myrtle?" Harry asked, reaching the door, which Snape had just opened.

"I couldn't find him." Myrtle began, sounding more like her normal miserable self. "I-"

"The headmaster is not presently in the castle, Potter." Snape snapped, marching down the corridor.

Myrtle gave his back a ghostly scowl.

"Thanks, Myrtle." Harry said quickly, and hurried after the gliding Snape.

He rooted in his pockets once more, this time withdrawing the map, and, stopping so that Snape could not hear how to use it, opened it. The four Marauders were obviously well aware of why Harry may have chosen to open the map, for it folded itself neatly open to reveal the new section he and Hermione had created. Pettigrew was approaching the door protected by Kaen and Shiakana. Wormtail's writing (the one on the map), and Myrtle's voice simultaneously attempted to explain what had happened, both seeming desperate to hear praise.

_I appeared on the map five minutes ago in a bathroom on the second floor – _

"I was lying near the ceiling, dreaming," Myrtle began, and, if a ghost could ever be said to blush, doing just that, "when a really loud noise woke me up."

– _out of nowhere. One second I wasn't on the map, the next I was._

"And that rat –" She shuddered, "the one with the silver paw – appeared out of one of the cubicles. It was holding something in its mouth. I don't know what. I went to look for the Headmaster, but I couldn't find him. It took me an age to find you too, I thought you were at the Quidditch pitch, or maybe that room the new teacher uses." She added mournfully.

Harry felt a little unnerved that Myrtle knew he should have been at a Quidditch practice tonight, and even more so that she knew about the paintball Ron had organised. He glanced down at the map again, as his feet followed Snape, taking him along with them.

_Wormtail just stood there for minutes, _Prongs wrote, while Harry checked where Pettigrew was, _just standing in the same place._

_We're guessing he must have been breaking a spell of some sort._ Padfoot interjected.

_And then I appeared in the new passage. _Wormtail scrawled.

Pettigrew's dot suddenly disappeared. With a groan, Harry realised he must be looking for a rat hole to avoid the door completely.

"What is it Potter?" Snape snapped.

"He's not in the bathroom anymore." Harry said, thinking quickly. There was no way he wanted Snape to know that he and Hermione had mapped the Chamber of Secrets. Snape sped up, and Harry quickened his paces behind him, tapping the map with his wand, and a whispered 'thanks'. Myrtle followed with an expression of excitement.

Whether the Chamber had ever been able to repulse witches or wizards with animagus forms, especially ones as small as Pettigrew – or Rita Skeeter – Harry doubted, but if it had, then it certainly didn't now. The dot marked Peter Pettigrew had reappeared. It was stationary in the middle of Slytherin's room. It didn't particularly surprise Harry, after all, the carcass of the Basilisk had proven vermin could find their way inside.

"Hurry, Potter." Snape barked, pushing the bathroom door open with so much force that it swung back and virtually closed once more.

A few steps behind Snape, Harry bit his tongue to stop his reply. Prudence was needed right now, if he lost control he wouldn't be any help in stopping Wormtail. If indeed he could be prevented from escaping. He pushed the door back open.

A dull, rusted medallion lay at rest on the unusually dry floor. Snape strode over to it, and bent down to pick it up, withdrawing his hand at the last moment as if scalded.

"A proxy charm." He mused, and uttered an incantation, before picking it up at the second attempt. "The Dark Lord himself must have been close by. He may still be." Pausing, he straightened up, and then flourished his wand once more with a whisper. "Expecto Patronum." A grey shape flapped through the wall opposite him.

"Well, Potter?" Snape snapped. "Open it up."

Which explained why Snape had demanded he had come, Harry realised belatedly. Only Harry could open the sink. Or at least, without destroying it completely, which is probably what would have happened if he hadn't been here.

"You will come with me and open the door to the Chamber." Snape snarled. "And then you will stay out of the way, is that understood?" He turned to look at Myrtle. "You! Ghost! Professor Minerva McGonagall should be on her way here, hopefully along with the Headmaster. Tell her what's happened."

"I have a name." Myrtle said peevishly, but Snape had already disappeared.

Harry paused, and turned towards her. "Thanks aga-"

He stopped speaking. He had seen something in his peripheral vision. He turned his back on the gaping hole that led to the Chamber of Secrets, and stared at the back of the bathroom door. Affixed by something as incongruous to Hogwarts as a drawing pin, was another sheet of typewritten paper. A shiver ran through his body, remembering what the last one had told them about. He walked forward slowly, until he could make out what it said.

_The Wandmaker shall have an interview_

Harry slowly reached out to the paper, and withdrew the pin. He stared at the note in his hand, and then gradually turned back to Myrtle.

"Myrtle?" Harry asked, hesitantly. "How long has this been pinned up on the door?"

She squinted at the paper, before shaking her head decisively. "I've never seen it before."

"Never? So it wasn't here when you came to get us?"

Myrtle shook her head.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Someone not only knew that Wormtail was there, but also when he was there, that Snape would feel his wards break, _and that Harry had a detention with Snape._

"Myrtle." Harry said, trying to sound calm. "You are positive that this wasn't here before the rat came."

"Yes!" Myrtle said, sounding insulted.

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath. "Sorry, I had to make certain."

Myrtle tipped her head to one side. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"It's… complicated. And I'd better get down there if we're to have any chance of catching Wormtail. Um, when Professor McGonagall comes, can you tell her I have another note, too? Thanks Myrtle."

"What took you so long?" Snape snarled, as Harry appeared, wand at the ready, and note tucked into his pocket.

"Altecutis." Harry muttered, removing the muck, before he answered, well aware that it would irritate Snape.

"Well?"

It was pointless not telling Snape. "There was another note."

Snape's face grew, if anything, more intense. "Where?"

"It was pinned on the door."

Snape frowned. "Show me."

Harry paused. "You said Professor Dumbledore is coming, didn't you? I'd rather let him decide who should see it."

Snape's face darkened.

"In case you might have to compromise, again." Harry replied, keeping the loathing out of his voice.

"Does it refer to what we are doing right now?" Snape demanded. Harry shook his head. "Very well, it may wait." He strode ahead, as though able to switch his hatred for Harry on or off. "Quickly Potter."

_Or maybe not._

Harry glanced at the map again, before jogging slightly to catch up. Pettigrew hadn't moved.

"Shiakana." Harry hissed, as they approached the door. "A wizard has broken into the Chamber."

"I see no wizard." Kaen hissed in response.

"He's an animagus." Harry qualified, as they drew to a halt before the snakes. "A rat with a silver paw."

With an angry hiss the door opened – for the first time, Kaen's half opening first.

"Light." Harry hissed.

The green torches lit, revealing a sea of moving bodies, a moil of grey flesh, tiny teeth, and sharp claws. There wasn't one rat in the Chamber. There were _thousands_.

"With a silver paw, you said?" Shiakana's voice disappeared into the distance, as the carving made its way through the room.

A spell shot out of Snape's wand, pushing a wave of rats backwards, forcing the bodies to fly backwards, hitting the small bodies behind them, and then flying over their heads. The mass moved as one in response, rats climbing on top of each other as their instinct led them to surge back towards Harry and Snape, either in attack, or else in the direction of the most obvious exit. They scratched and bit each other, as another spell of Snape's forced them back once more.

Harry, ignoring Snape's instruction, took a step forward, until he was standing beside him. A third wave of rats approached.

"Protego Corporis." Harry said, willing the shield to surround both of them.

An almost transparent bubble formed around them. It was still easy to see through the shield, but there was a grainy texture to it, as if looking through a window thinly coated with dust.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Very well Potter."

He pointed his wand towards the centre of the teeming mass, "Rejicia."

A controlled explosion erupted, causing a ghastly shriek of pain from the collective rodents. Blood splattered other rats, and flung them through the air more viciously than Snape's previous spells had done. A bloody ring expanded from the point of impact, just as some of the rats finally reached the two men. A mist started to spread from his wand, reaching the middle of the room, and then expanding.

Slowly, Harry's head started to ache. While his shield held, each rat which was pushed to one side by the shield, or attempted to bite or claw through it, before being pushed onwards by the swarm behind, caused a build up of pressure upon his temples. While he wouldn't have noticed the demands a single rat put on the shield, or even tens of them, the amount that was pushing past them was another matter. The rats frantically scrambled over each other, biting each other in an effort to be first to escape. Other rats climbed up the rocky walls around the room, and disappeared through nooks and crannies not obvious to the human eye. Snape meanwhile was casting spells through the shield, but whether he had seen Pettigrew or not, Harry couldn't tell.

"Here." Shiakana's hiss sounded from one of the pillars to their right.

The pressure subsided as the wave of rodents fled up the passage, and Harry turned, to see a flash of silver show itself on the floor. He let the shield drop, and aimed a curse at the flash of light. By the time the spell from Harry's wand had reached it however, Wormtail was gone.

"Where is he, Potter?" Snape asked calmly.

Harry shook his head. "He's gone."

_Not only that, but he would surely be able to find other ways into the Chamber__ now._

He must have spoken aloud, for Snape replied in a measured tone, as the last stragglers of rats disappeared, leaving just the gore caused by Snape's explosion behind. "I am well aware of that fact, Potter. However, the most pressing matter that remains is why Wormtail exactly was ordered to come down here."

"You don't know?" Harry asked, in a tone of surprise.

Snape's voice grew dangerous again. "If it is so obvious, pray, enlighten me, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "That's not what I meant, I just thought that Voldemort would hardly trust Pettigrew for something sec-" He shook his head, a little unnerved by the calculating expression in Snape's face. "Never mind."

Snape gazed at him for a few seconds. "Wormtail is not highly trusted by the Dark Lord, no. But the Dark Lord does not organise his followers as Albus does the Order. In general, Death Eaters do what they are told, rather than provide active input into any organisation. You are limited by your personal experiences." The criticism, Harry noted, wasn't accompanied by the usual barb.

Snape strode into the centre of the room, and gazed around. "So. What was Pettigrew looking for?" He mused to himself.

"Maybe he's looking for something that's no longer here." Harry suggested. "I mean, we couldn't find anything when we looked."

"I don't recall you performing much of the searching." Snape sneered.

_Back to normal, then._

Harry stayed silent.

"He can hardly take anything with him in his animagus form." Snape paused, before coming to a conclusion. He walked towards one of the walls with the strange snakelike squiggles upon it. "Potter. Come here."

Harry walked forwards cautiously. "What?"

"Tell me what you see on this wall."

Harry looked at Snape, and made a face. "A lot of wavy lines."

"Look closer, Potter. Concentrate."

"What am I meant to be looking for?" Harry asked in irritation.

"Just do it. Don't ask questions." Snape snapped, in a manner eerily similar to Aunt Petunia.

Harry sighed, and stared at the wall. The lines blurred, meaning nothing to him. "Nothing." He said after a few seconds.

"Try harder."

Harry let his eyes slide along the wall, in the silence, interrupted only by water dripping, and the inaudible hissing of snakes, which disappeared as soon as Harry tried to work out what Kaen and Shiakana might be saying.

"I take it you were unable to apprehend Peter Pettigrew, Severus?" Dumbledore's mild voice said behind them.

"Unfortunately, yes." Snape said coolly, turning to face the Headmaster, who was accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

Harry's head of house was looking around cautiously, as she took in Slytherin's secret Chamber for the first time. As her eyes alighted upon Harry, she looked annoyed to say the least. "And just why did you decide to put one of my students in danger, Severus?"

"Potter was needed in order to follow Pettigrew." Snape replied calmly. "Having no knowledge of Parseltongue I could not enter without Potter to open the way."

"Wormtail fled instead of trying to fight, anyway." Harry cut in.

"Believe me, Minerva," Snape added, glaring at the interruption, "I wish he could have remained in the Gryffindor Common Room just as much, if not more, than you do. Regardless, Albus, returning to the matter at hand, it seems to me that the Dark Lord can only have wanted a visual image of the Chamber, for Pettigrew could not have taken anything with him. That would lend credence to my suggestion that those markings, are in fact a form of language, which He may, or may not have the ability to translate."

"Perhaps, Severus." Dumbledore acknowledged. "Could you tell whereabouts in the chamber he focussed?"

"No. He surrounded himself with enough other, normal, rats to fill the chamber. Potter only saw him as he escaped, and by then it was too late. As he did not exit through the door, it is safe to assume he will have discovered another way in that does not involve the bathroom." Snape paused for a second, and then continued softly. "Perhaps just as worrying, is the fact that Potter has found another note."


	32. The Drawing of Lines

_A/N: All I will say, is that I shall be very interested to see what you think of this chapter._

* * *

**Chapter 32: The Drawing of Lines**

"I have told you before, Albus, that I will not sacrifice my position of neutrality." Mr Ollivander said calmly. "Bringing Harry Potter along with you will not do anything to change my mind."

Harry looked around. They were standing in a private room of Mr Ollivander's behind the shop area: a link room between the shop, and Ollivander's house. Perhaps it was due to the rows upon rows of wands that Harry remembered in the front, but the room looked rather bare to him. Portraits of former Ollivanders – all male – hung on the white walls, blinking down at them interestedly. Some of the paintings were looking at Harry and Dumbledore with rather irritated expressions, but they remained speechless. Battered hard-backed chairs surrounded a similarly scruffy table in a corner, looking as though they had been through the wars. In the middle of the room was a workbench, with a section of a bole of wood, a long, thin white hair, and some instruments whose purpose Harry could only guess at. The stone floor beneath them was pitted with marks, holes, and other imperfections that could ordinarily have been easily mended by magic.

Harry wondered how volatile wands could be while they were being created.

"Whilst I still have hopes of changing your mind on that score, the more immediate concern is your safety." Dumbledore said in a matching tone.

"Indeed?" Ollivander asked dubiously. "Please, take a seat." He pulled out one of the wooden chairs, and sat stiffly upright. As Harry and Dumbledore sat, Ollivander continued. "Then why is young Harry Potter with you? If my safety is in question, then surely you are bringing your student into the face of danger also. Or have the papers got something right for a change when they suggest that Harry Potter can defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Dumbledore chose not to answer the question about Harry's presence right away. The person in question was wondering just where any books which might lead to knowledge about Slytherin's Scrivenings could be. They certainly weren't in this room – there wasn't a single bookcase to be seen.

"A source that so far has had utmost reliability, has warned us that Lord Voldemort intends to visit you tonight. He is in search of the same information we are, and you are well aware how he would use any knowledge he might gain. You also know about his techniques to find information from unwilling subjects."

Mr Ollivander dismissed Dumbledore's statement with a wave of his hand. "He would not dare to break the unwritten compact. I am the only master wandmaker currently alive in Britain. Even my son has many years of study to go through before I would trust him to take over the family trade. Like every other man in history who has fought for something they believe in, right or wrong, he knows that he needs wandmakers alive and willing in order to make wands. Even the Imperious curse can not force a wandmaker to create a wand. It requires the personal touch that that curse destroys. He may ask for my help, but he will do no more."

"Before now, for centuries, witches and wizards left Muggles out of our internal conflicts, for they realised how of paramount importance our world remaining in secrecy is. Voldemort is the exception." Dumbledore pointed out quietly.

"Naturally. He believes that Muggle blood is inferior, and is quite happy to attempt to wipe them out. He can not achieve mass genocide by remaining in secrecy, can he? That does not, however, mean that he will break the compact. He has had many opportunities to have done so before now, and many reasons to, also, and yet I remain untouched. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not a fool Albus. His actions may be regrettable, but I, also, will uphold my word."

One thing Harry could relate to was stubbornness, and he had a feeling that Ollivander had it in bucket loads. It just so happened that Mr Ollivander's stubbornness in this case was a little like Ron's belief that the Chudley Cannons could win the league: no matter how much they believed it, it didn't make it any more likely.

"Mr Ollivander?" Harry said a little hesitantly, speaking up at last with a glance towards Dumbledore to make sure it was alright to do so. "What if we're right?"

Ollivander blinked at him, as though he hadn't expected Harry to do anything other than stand there.

"I mean, if we're wrong, then you tell Voldemort you won't help him or us, and he leaves you alone, right? So if you get your family out of harm's way, and get ready to flee or fight if needs be, and we're wrong, then there's no harm done. But what if we're right? Doesn't it make sense to prepare just in case?"

"My wife is dead, Mr Potter," Ollivander said slowly, "and my son has quarters elsewhere. Mine is the only life at stake, and it would be best served if neither of you were here, for if I am seen with you, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may assume that I am the one to have broken my neutrality."

"What about your wands?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "If the worst happens, and there is indeed a fight, then your life's work may be destroyed, or stolen."

Ollivander paled.

"Harry and I are merely suggesting caution." Dumbledore said reasonably. "Take your irreplaceable items to safety, and do not assume you are safe merely due to an unwritten agreement that may have lasted for centuries, but also has never actually been agreed with by Lord Voldemort."

Ollivander studied Dumbledore's face for a number of seconds, before nodding curtly. "Very well, Professor Dumbledore, I shall do as you and Mr Potter suggest. I thank you for your concern, and you may now leave, assured that you have done your duty in passing on this warning."

"I do not believe that would be wise, my friend." Dumbledore replied quietly. "You must remember that if the worst does indeed happen, as Harry and I fear, then by attacking you, and searching your house, he may find what he is looking for. If that happens, then Voldemort may become near unstoppable. I shall not allow that to happen."

Ollivander stood and frowned. "I think once I have removed my wands to another location, it will be time for you to explain exactly what it is that you are searching for. You have been cryptic for far too long."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Well?" Ollivander asked.

Dumbledore hesitated only for a fraction of a second. "We believe you may have information which could lead us – or Voldemort – to the Scrivenings of Slytherin."

Mr Ollivander actually chuckled. "Then there is little to worry about. A myth, Albus, that's all they are."

Dumbledore met the scepticism with equanimity. "So I believed. However Lord Voldemort believes otherwise, and after a not inconsequential amount of research, I must confess that I found that the likelihood of the Scrivenings' – or something similar's – existence has improved somewhat."

Ollivander shrugged. "Well, I am afraid that both you and the Dark Lord will be disappointed, for I have no help to offer in pursuit of a fable."

"I would have found it surprising if you were in fact able to shed some light upon our search, but, what is plausible, is that information may be hidden, either here, or perhaps in other property that has long been in your family's estate."

Harry glanced at the portraits – anything he said would probably get in the way. A snake slithered its way across the portraits on the opposite wall, and Harry was amused to find a couple of the subjects recoiling as it invaded their space. Both men, a red cheeked, portly fellow, and a dandy with a rather impressive moustache, glared at the frame in which it ended up. It slithered up the subject of the painting, and looped itself around his neck. The man – a powerfully built man whose muscles had the vaguest hint of going to fat – was lounging in a chair. His hair was practically as blond as the Malfoys. Harry wondered if he was in Slytherin. Odds were certainly in favour of that possibility. It was the kind of bet one might lay your house on. Ollivander's voice brought him back to the matter at hand.

"Why should a family that has remained neutral for long years before Hogwarts conception have information, as you put it, hidden away about one of that institution's founders, and arguably the cause of the largest schism in Wizarding society?"

Dumbledore gave no sign of responding to the inferred scorn. "As you say, Aloysius, your family has been supplying Wizarding Britain with wands since 382 B.C. Should it surprise you that an Ollivander was amongst the first pupils to attend Hogwarts?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Ollivander replied composedly. "For years, the Ollivander family undertook the training of their own heirs. It has only been recently that members of our family have attended Hogwarts."

_A house worse off, then._ Harry thought wryly.

Ollivander's voice tautened. He had obviously read an expression on Dumbledore's face. "You have proof?" The searing question received a quiet nod.

"Yes," Dumbledore began, "I have in my possession written proof that the daughter of an Ollivander was-"

Harry interrupted him. His scar had throbbed. Blinking in the pain, he turned to the headmaster. "Professor?"

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a piercing gaze, taking in Harry's expression at a glance. He nodded. "Voldemort is near?"

Harry copied the movement. "I think so, yes." It had barely been a tickle compared to previous instances of pain in his scar, but Harry had become used to its absence.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair as though the altercation that was nearing was in no way unusual. "Well then Aloysius, we had better get ready to greet him." He glanced at Harry. "I assume you have your cloak?"

"Yeah." Harry said, throat dry, and pulse racing. This would be the first time he would face Voldemort, and have a choice in the matter.

As though reading his mind, Dumbledore gave a slight shake of the head. "You must wait here, away from the confrontation completely. If," He glanced towards Ollivander, "as I believe likely, Lord Voldemort refuses to leave gracefully, then it shall be up to you to find the document we are looking for. I would suggest that it will be hidden, which in some ways makes the search easier. You must prevent him, or any Death Eaters, from seizing it. I am sure Mr Ollivander will agree, that as a last resort, any information Voldemort could use must be destroyed."

Ollivander looked rather dubious at this. "I am forced to agree. However, you must stay out of sight, Professor Dumbledore. I will not risk my neutrality by being seen in your company."

"Naturally." Dumbledore said quietly, but in a voice that seemed to radiate power. "Shall we?"

As Albus Dumbledore opened the door, he gestured politely for Mr Ollivander to precede him. Harry stood, and reached for his cloak. He shuddered, as a chill breeze came through the open door.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry peered through the crack in the door from beneath his cloak. Ollivander was standing as still as a statue. Dumbledore was also in the room, he had faded from view completely, just as he had the night of the Hogsmeade attack; but not before he had created – and subsequently vanished – a barrier of solid stone behind which Ollivander was standing.

Harry couldn't help but admire Ollivander's composure. He stood there as though he had no fear of the man who was on his way here. Of course, it was possible that he still believed that Voldemort would not lift a finger against him. Despite the muffling charms that protected the shop from outside noise, a buzz of angry bees was building. Light forced its way through the blinds, the orange-red of fire. As a dull thud reverberated, Harry realised that his presence here was necessity rather than any spectacular prowess on his part. All the Order members were needed elsewhere, and certainly it was vital that Snape did not show himself. _Assuming that he isn't a loyal Death Eater._

"Ollivander." The cold voice was followed by three, slow, calculated knocks. "I know you're there Ollivander – your wards must have told you I was here with plenty of time to spare."

"I am neutral." Ollivander replied, voice – amazingly – calm. "You can have nothing to say to me – and certainly nothing to gain."

"Come now Ollivander. Would you turn away a visitor without even speaking face to face with them? I know you have spoken to Dumbledore. So much for your vaunted neutrality."

Ollivander shifted slightly, and took a breath before continuing in the same, calm voice. "I told Dumbledore the same thing I am telling you. I have no intention of helping either of you, or picking a side in this war."

"War is such an ugly word, Ollivander," Voldemort sounded amused, which caused Harry to clench his wrists beneath the cloak. "I prefer the term: revolution."

Ollivander made no reply, so a few seconds later Voldemort continued to speak.

"Besides, you haven't even heard my offer yet. Allow me to enter, and we can talk like civilised Purebloods." Harry stifled a snort of disbelief – barely. "After all, you listened to Dumbledore's offer; the least you can do is listen to mine. Or is your neutrality an act?"

Ollivander's reply was immediate, and chilly. "Have I your word that you will leave peacefully if I refuse, even after hearing your offer."

"As if that means anything." Harry muttered under his breath. He stifled a curse. Voldemort knew how to push people's buttons.

"But of course. If I wished bloodshed I would simply tear down your wards, admirable as they may be. Rest assured that I shall leave if you remain neutral."

Ollivander nodded his head. "You may enter."

With a loud click, the door swung open. A figure, cloaked in a green so dark it was barely shy of black, stepped forward. Harry repressed a shudder as the long fingers reached up to remove his hood to reveal the smooth face, the apology of a nose with slits for nostrils, and the two scarlet, gleaming eyes. Harry's heart seemed to be pounding loud enough to be heard by the three men in the room, and he forced himself to take deep, silent breaths.

"What is your offer?" Ollivander asked, syllables a little clipped.

Voldemort took two steps forward, watching to see if Ollivander could withstand his gaze. "Are you not going to offer me a seat?" The tight lips formed a pretence of a smile, as Ollivander did not take a step back.

"You may make your offer here. I am sure you will understand my reticence, given that Dumbledore is not known for physical threats, while-"

"You wound me Ollivander." Voldemort interrupted. "You seem to have a certain lack of trust in my promises."

"Make your offer."

The three words hung in the air, Voldemort enjoyed the pause, fed on the increase in tension it created, and then looked away, found the spindly chair and brought it forward into the room to sit upon with a wave of his hand.

"It has come to my attention that you have some information which could aid me in discovering more about my noble ancestors. Specifically, the great Salazar Slytherin. I have come to reclaim my family's history."

Power radiated from Voldemort, but not the power that Dumbledore exuded, that was like a sturdy rock in the ocean that refused to yield to the elements. The power that Voldemort was showing was mixed with darkness. It gave the same feeling Harry had felt when Voldemort had returned. The same as when Sirius had died, and Voldemort had stripped his defences bare. The same as when he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had entered the fray in Hogsmeade.

It had the smell of fear – and death.

"I am afraid you are mistaken." Ollivander replied stiffly. "I have nothing of yours, and nothing that relates to Salazar Slytherin."

"Ah." Voldemort voice was the tone that suggested a simple mix-up, of crossed wires. "Perhaps I mislead you? I do not mean to say that you, personally, have recently been given this information, or even that you might have any knowledge of it. Rather, it is that it has only lately come to my attention that what I am looking for may have been hidden. Hidden here."

"My neutrality prevents me from offering aid to either side of a conflict. You know that." Ollivander remained statuesque.

"Who said anything about aiding me in the fight to cleanse our society? This is a simple matter of my searching for information that rightly belongs to me."

"Is that so?" Ollivander said, and his disbelief showed.

"That is twice you have doubted my word, Mr Ollivander. Most people don't live past the first offence."

"Are you threatening me? A wandmaker?"

"Threats?" Voldemort asked in cold disbelief, shifting slightly on the chair. "I make no threats, I simply relate facts." His voice became friendly once more. "Besides, you haven't even asked me what I offer, for the simple service of allowing me to take something that is already mine."

"What do you offer? My life? Need I remind you about the comp-"

"That is the third time. My patience is wavering. I offer, Ollivander, ingredients for your wandmaking that you can scarcely dream of. Have you imagined what kind of wand would be produced by the fang of a Basilisk? Or the heart-string of a Chimera? Perhaps your fancy runs to other bents? I offer my own knowledge about wandmaking-" Voldemort held up his hand. "-I do not presume to know more about wandmaking that you do, however, I have done research upon artefacts that have long been considered taboo. Have you ever considered harnessing a house-elf's magic? There were days when wands with centaurs' heart-strings were two a penny; would you not like the chance to roll back time? What about… personalised wands, maybe, made with items close to the customer. A father's bone, perhaps? An unborn child's heart? Not only do I offer this knowledge, but I offer you license to use it."

Harry felt himself growing sick at the suggestion of using body parts as though they were to be used and then discarded. To his horror, Ollivander showed no sign of disgust, although Harry's couldn't see his face. How could anyone even consider-

"While some of your offer sounds enticing, I am afraid I still must decline. I shall not be the one Ollivander who forsook his neutrality."

Voldemort inclined his head slightly as though in disappointment. His voice grew colder, and a sharp edge appeared. "Threats. You mentioned threats. Threats are made by people who would rather not follow through with the forecasted punishment. I have no such qualms, Ollivander; I give choices."

Ollivander took a step backwards. "You gave your word!" He hissed.

"So I did. I gave you my word that I would leave as long as you remained neutral."

"I _am_ neutral." Ollivander snarled.

"Inactivity is not the same as neutrality, Ollivander. The facts in this case are simple. Dumbledore, the senile Mudblood lover, is attempting to hide my rightful heritage from me. He has abused your supposed neutrality. As long as you refuse to help me, you help Dumbledore. And if a wandmaker helps one side in a battle, then the other side are within their rights to remove the offender."

There was a pregnant pause, where Ollivander took a couple more steps backwards. _He was getting too close to the door. If Voldemort suspected he was trying to flee…_ Ollivander stopped, and raised his left arm. Voldemort's riposte was to fling back his head and laugh. The cold sound reverberated in Harry's head. He felt the wand in his hand, the reassuring, smooth wood, which had saved him from Voldemort before. Harry relaxed.

"What are you intending to do with that, Ollivander?" Voldemort's voice, now he had finished laughing, was full of scorn. "Do you mean to fight me? You may be a skilled wandmaker, but are you a skilled duellist?" Voldemort paused. "Would you like to find out?"

"I don't want to use magic at all." Ollivander ground out.

Amusement played on Voldemort's face as he remained sitting. This was entertainment for him. He casually raised his arm, and the wand appeared as if by magic – the sleight of hand variety. He made a show of pointing it at Ollivander.

"Wait!" Ollivander said, voice sounding broken. "Wait."

"But why should I? You have made your decision, have you not?"

"Why- Why do you think whatever you want is here? I know of nothing that could aid you. All I have are my wands, and yours has already chosen you."

Voldemort smiled. "Very well, I shall humour you for now. It just so happens, that one of the women in my service is distantly related to you, Ollivander. Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black. Indeed, it may interest you to know that the first daughter of my noble progenitor, Salazar Slytherin, mixed her blood with the first son of the second generation of Blacks. That line branched from mine there, of course. My follower's ancestor's sister stole something, and this delinquent, then married into another Pureblood family. Can you guess whose family, Ollivander?"

Harry blinked, and shivered once more, this time caused by a mixture of astonishment and unease. Was Voldemort saying that _Sirius_ was somehow distantly related to Slytherin? It was a good thing he had never discovered that.

"Mine." Ollivander said, and swallowed.

"Very good. So, now you know how something of mine has come into your custody. And, like any curator, now that the rightful owner is here, you can relinquish your burden."

"Even were I willing to help, I cannot. I have never even heard of this phantom union with the Black family."

Voldemort stood slowly, and then spoke with mock sorrow. "Pity. I do so hate the pointless waste of human life. Unfortunately I do not have the time to waste to make use of you for my Death Eater's entertainment. Avada Kedavra."

Dumbledore's voice rang out at the same time. "Manifestus."

The solid stone barrier appeared, and then exploded into fragments.

"Dumbledore." Voldemort spat, as the Headmaster reappeared. "I should have known you would be here. I thought I had rooted out the traitor, but obviously there was more than one. Never mind, you aren't the only person able to hide behind cheap parlour tricks. Abdo-exemplar."

Smoke billowed throughout the room, originating where Voldemort stood, shielding him from view completely.

"May I suggest that you retreat into the room behind us, Mr Ollivander?" Dumbledore's voice was supremely calm.

The door behind Ollivander slammed closed, and Harry jumped back, well away from it. Before he could decide whether to try to open it again, or leave it to Dumbledore, it clicked open once more, showing a smoke free room. As it opened, Harry had to blink his eyes. Standing on one side of the shop, were _two_ Voldemorts.

Both Voldemort's spoke as one. "Interesting defences this shop has, Ollivander."

A beam of light exited both wands of the doubles, but both were absorbed by one of the shelves which had contained wands half an hour before, and that was now flying across the room in defence, thanks to Dumbledore. Ollivander staggered through the door, coughing, and then pushed the door behind him. Harry caught a glimpse of liquid fire surrounding one of the Voldemorts, and could smell burning flesh, before the door clicked shut.

Harry shed the cloak. "Are you willing to help us now?" Realising how combative it sounded, he added a quick 'Sir'.

Incredibly, Ollivander still seemed unsure, or perhaps he was merely in shock that he had been attacked, but a moment before Harry decided to say anything more, he spoke up. "Very well. How can I help? I honestly do not see what I can do to aid you."

Harry paused, aware of how little time they had. Dumbledore would not be able to stall Voldemort indefinitely. His voice sounded muffled behind the door, stalling for time. "Okay, we're looking for directions, so I guess the place to start is a library."

"This way." Ollivander stepped towards a door.

"What are you doing, Aloysius?" A commanding voice barked out. When Harry looked it, he saw it to be the man with the snake around his shoulders. "You must remain neutral!"

"How can he be neutral, when Voldemort just tried to kill him?" Harry asked angrily. All the portraits winced, as did Ollivander. "Look, you can either stay neutral, and be tortured and then killed, or else try to resist him, and maybe stay alive. Anyone with half a brain cell would chose the second of those options."

He wrenched open the door Ollivander had been approaching, and then turned back to the wandmaker. He nodded, and walked through the door. Apart from the plush carpet on the stairs before them, the hallway was virtually bare, with only the occasional portrait hung upon it, split by candles which were affixed to the walls, charmed so that they would never melt down. The muscular man that had been concerned about Ollivander's neutrality followed them through the paintings, in turn followed by his snake.

"Just because someone has broken the compact, is no reason for any other to betray it." He said furiously.

Harry ignored him, and hurried through the door Ollivander had just opened. Harry assumed that this room was the library, but it wasn't obvious at first glance. Piles and piles of books were stacked on top of each other higgledy-piggledy, many of which blocked off the few books and almanacs which were carefully tucked away. Tables and chairs were submerged under a mass of paper, and upon each separate portion of the mess was years of accumulated dust. It was everywhere, from the two chandeliers which hung high above them, to the hardbacked covers and loose leaves of unbound books.

Harry took one glance towards the books closest to him, and groaned. The first five books were entitled: _Dark Arts: The Rise of Llewellyn Jones, and the Welsh Revolution _by_ Bathilda Bagshot_, _Housewitch: a Beginner's Guide to Gourmet Cooking _by_ Mrs O.F. Baker_, _The Sorcerers Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ by _Switch & Mulder_, _An Anthology of Wands of Power_ by _Horatio Ollivander, _and finally, _The Potionner's Bible_ by _Rudolf Zanix._ What an eclectic, disorganised collection!

"What are we looking for, then, Mr Potter?" Ollivander enquired politely.

Harry resisted the urge to swear, and ignored the voice that wished Hermione could be there to help. She wasn't, and wishing otherwise wouldn't order the mess masquerading as a library, nor would it cause Hermione to somehow appear.

"Probably a diary, or a single scroll." Harry said, thinking quickly. Remembering Pierre's diary, he continued, "It probably won't be bound, and chances are it will be written in Latin."

_So how on earth am I meant to recognise it? On second thoughts, my being here rather than McGonagall or Snape was an awful idea._

"How is the library organised?" Harry asked, hoping desperately that they could discount a large portion of the room as being useless.

"Organised?" Ollivander blinked owlishly. "I'm afraid I haven't organised the library since my house elf died – I keep meaning to purchase a replacement, but I just haven't had the time."

Harry winced. He had a feeling he didn't want to know the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. "Um. When did your house elf die?"

Ollivander thumbed one of the books in front of him. "Oh, it must be heading on to fifteen… no… more like eighteen years now, I suppose."

Harry allowed his eyes to close in frustration. Dumbledore was expecting miracles. It would take hours, if not days to search through these books. Whilst Dumbledore had forced a stalemate with Voldemort last year in the Ministry, keeping him occupied for hours was a task beyond anybody's capabilities. Especially with Voldemort's love of the Unforgivables.

As he looked around the room in helplessness, his eyes alighted upon an austere looking man, who was deep in conversation with the portrait who had followed them. The snake was curled comfortably on an armchair, watching Harry. The other half of the conversation seemed just as furious at the suggestion of foregoing neutrality. The Ollivanders were holding on to it, like a terrier refuses to let go of its prey.

Ollivander himself, looked like Harry felt: completely unsure about where to start. In fact, the more Harry looked at the piles of disorganisation, the longer he estimated he needed. An explosion sounded in the distance, and Harry felt the tremors.

"Can we just stow all the books in cases, and send them all to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

Ollivander shook his head. "All the books are charmed to repel spells immediately they are placed here."

"Oh for-" Harry didn't bother finishing the sentence. There was silence for a few moments, and then Harry was arrested by the look upon his companion's face.

Ollivander was looking at him with a piercing gaze. "So, Mr Potter, why is Albus Dumbledore so willing to bring a student, such as yourself, to such a dangerous situation?"

Harry didn't answer. While Dumbledore might wish to encourage rumours of Harry's abilities, Harry himself would never feel comfortable putting himself forward into that role. It was the kind of arrogance Malfoy showed. _Or_, he thought with a pang, _that Prongs had shown in school._

"There is great power within you, Mr Potter. That much I have known since your wand chose you. But power alone is not enough for Albus to countenance placing you in harm's way." His voice turned reflective, and he rested his hands palms faced down on the books on the table in front of him, gazing at Harry. "What else about you is special?"

Harry swallowed, and found his gaze return to the snake in the portrait. The words he had been about to say died in his throat.

_What one thing could _he_ do, that no-one else in the Order, even Dumbledore, could?_

He could barely raise his voice as he turned to Ollivander. "This Black who married into your family, was she a Parseltongue?"

"This was the first I had heard of any such union." Ollivander reminded him curtly, looking put out that Harry still hadn't answered.

Harry nodded slowly, thinking. He returned to the snake once more, and spoke in Parseltongue. "Did a Black marry into your family that could speak Parseltongue? Might she have known of a way to go to the place Salazar Slytherin called home?"

The austere man in the portrait answered in Parseltongue. "Even if my descendant has chosen to ignore the laws of neutrality, I shall not. Just because one man has no honour is no reason to forsake our own. The Ollivanders have always been beyond reproach in such matters." His companion nodded.

"It's not to do with you, though," Harry hissed, "it is about something this woman has. Voldemort wishes to seize something of hers."

"We shall not-"

"Wait, my friend." As Harry had hoped, the snake had spoken up. "If it is something concerning something Celandine brought with her, then the decision is hers, and not ours to make. Follow me, young man." The snake slithered into a bordering picture – the occupants visiting a picture elsewhere.

"How did you know?" Ollivander asked, gazing at Harry.

"That your family has spoken Parseltongue?" Harry asked, striding to the door. "Ara Ollivander, one of your ancestors, or, at least, related to you in some way, spoke Parseltongue. I didn't know if it was hereditary, but I thought it was worth a try."

Harry turned left, and jogged slightly in order to keep up with the snake, Ollivander in tow. Sounds of the battle came from in front of them, as they retraced their steps.

"I, myself, do not speak Parseltongue." Ollivander qualified. "But many of my ancestors have had that ability."

"What's her name?" Harry asked, as quietly as it was possible to do whilst half running – half walking.

"I do not know." Ollivander shook his head, so Harry put the question to the snake herself.

"I am called Lacona." The snake hissed conversationally. "And you are?"

"Harry, Harry Potter." He replied as they mounted a staircase.

"Not related to the Brighton Potters by any chance? Augustin and Marie?"

"I, um, I don't know. I was orphaned when I was one."

"I see, my apologies." The snake seemed rather talkative. "A pity. Theodorus had some superb duels with Augustin. They shared the British duelling championships between them for twelve years in a row, you know?"

Bizarrely, or at least, bizarrely to Harry, Lacona, the snake, seemed to be far more – normal – than any of the Ollivanders he had spoken to so far.

"Left here." Lacona hissed cheerfully.

Harry stopped before opening the door. Strangely, it had a knocker on it. A bronze snake, at least an inch thick swallowed its own tail. The door itself would have looked like any door you might expect to find inside a house, if it weren't for this obviously external knocker.

"The symbol of fertility," Ollivander explained, "Celandine considered this her drawing room, and it became synonymous with her. I had never realised she had been a Black. She is often considered the mother of contemporary wandmaking – as a general rule the most famous wandmaking families throughout the world stem from her progeny."

Harry hastily opened the door before Ollivander could begin to name each one. Inside was a very effeminate room, layered in dust. Lace obscured the windows, with curtains, lightly coloured pink, bundled in velvet sashes. China patterned with scenes, mainly set in the kitchen, lay on a teak dresser, but, although there were many kittens blinking at them, the room was to Umbridge's office, as a suave courtier was to a troll.

Harry felt as if he had entered a shop full of breakables. If he touched one of the displays, everything might shatter. He allowed his eyes to sweep to his right, where a beige, low-backed couch sat, arranged with cushions of the faintest lilac. A matching pair of chairs stood opposite, and against the far wall was a desk and chair, also teak. An open scroll lay on the desk, elegant snake paperweights preventing it from curling together once more. The ink well sat empty, sunk into the back right of the desk, and beside it stood a quill and sharpening knife, sheathed. Everything in the room was covered by an inch of desk, and Harry found himself wondering just which rooms Ollivander in fact _did _use, but no blemishes showed, and nor was there a moth eaten piece of material to be seen. The room was obviously protected by magic.

"Celandine," Lacona hissed, "this man, Harry Potter has some questions for you. Fair thee well, Harry." She finished, slithering away.

Harry looked up to the portrait, and gave an involuntary start. Bellatrix Lestrange was looking down at him from the wall. Or at least, it looked like Bellatrix Lestrange. The glint of madness, however, was nowhere to be seen in her eyes, and her face was arranged in an innocent smile which lit up the face, producing an almost unearthly beauty.

"How may I help you, Harry?" Her voice was soft, at odds to Sirius' deranged cousin.

"I, ah…" Harry blinked, trying to help his mind accept the similarities between this woman, and the one he hated above all else.

Surprisingly, it was Ollivander who answered first. "There is a Dark Lord attacking this home, claiming that you brought information with you from Grimmauld Place which referred to Salazar Slytherin."

The pretty eyes flashed with intelligence, and her voice gained steel, becoming more business-like. "Dark, how? Often one man's Dark Lord, is another's hero."

"He wants power." Harry said bluntly, aware that they were using up time.

"Naturally. To be a strong leader, one must have power. What are his beliefs?"

"He uses fear to get whatever he wants. He kills, tortures, and uses people. He claims that anyone without 'pure blood' is unworthy of a witch or wizard. His followers-" Harry stopped talking, fury had entered Celandine's eyes.

"Pureblood mania. That was the reason I abandoned my family."

"Is that also why you stole directions to Salazar Slytherin's home?" Harry asked. "To stop the bigots from using anything of his?"

"Stole?" The portrait snapped. "The directions were mine by right. I can trace my blood to Slytherin himself."

"I'm sorry." Harry replied hastily, scared that he had blundered past all hope of help. "I was just going by what Voldemort said: I didn't know."

Celandine eyed him regally, and then nodded. "I accept your apology. What would you ask of me?"

Yet another loud explosion rocked the house, drowning out Harry's reply.

He spoke quickly as the sound of garbled voices buzzed in the distance. "Voldemort is looking for these directions. If he finds where Salazar Slytherin went after leaving Hogwarts, we might never be able to stop him. Please, we have to find them first."

"To get it, you must have knowledge of Parseltongue. I see no need to choose a side. I admired my love for his neutrality; it will remain safe where it is."

Harry switched to Parseltongue. "Voldemort can speak Parseltongue too. He opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"Avada Kedavra." Voldemort's voice was distant, but recognisable.

"Please." Harry begged in English, his brain racing.

"How do I know that you are trustworthy?" She asked. "It is easy to profess certain beliefs, far harder to judge their sincerity."

"Look, if people like Voldemort had had their way, then both the founders of the Black family would have been tortured and then put to death. Gwen, because her parents were Muggles, and Pierre, because he loved a Muggleborn."

Astonishment dawned on Celandine's face. "How could you-"

"My Godfather was a Black." Harry began to explain, distant sounds suggesting the fight was nearing them, or perhaps it was his imagination. "A Black like you –" he added hastily, "he didn't care about purity of blood either. Please – there's not much time." He added, breaking off from his explanation, it would take too long.

"Mr Potter." Ollivander said quietly, breaking the silence that he had held since the start of the conversation. "There is an enchantment upon this room." He glanced at Celandine. "More than just household charms. Am I right, m'Lady?"

"You are." Another explosion rocked the room, which seemed to help make up her mind. "Very well. Both of you must leave the room. Use the knocker on the door three times, and then, speaking in Parseltongue, ask the snake on the knocker to show you the room. When the door opens, you will find what you desire."

Harry glanced at Mr Ollivander, half expecting the excitement on his face to be mirrored. Like a master gambler, however, he barely showed a hint of intrigue. Before he could even move, a shriek of pain rang out, piercing his ears. It didn't sound like either Voldemort, or Dumbledore – if, indeed, Harry could imagine either of them screaming in agony.

"Stupefy." Dumbledore's hoarse voice said in the distance. The screaming stopped.

"That's hardly protecting them, Dumbledore, it is still child's play to torture or kill these fools to my heart's desire. Of course," Voldemort continued, voice dripping with mockery, "if you allow me to pass, then I will allow them to live, or do you still hold to the idea that death is not the worst fate these fools can face?"

"Come on." Harry urged Ollivander, as another scream rang out.

As he stepped outside the door, he blinked. At the bottom of the stairs, the door that led to the link room, where the fight now raged, was putting its broken fragments back together.

"One of the charms on the house." Ollivander said from behind them. "Very useful, but I have never discovered how it was done."

Harry shook his head, and closed the door they had just exited. He paused as he picked up the door knocker, and then knocked firmly, three times. The snake in his hand twitched, and slithered out of his grip. Harry let go as though he had just been scalded.

"What?" The door knocker hissed.

"Er – hi." Harry hissed, as his heart started to calm down once more.

"What?" The snake repeated.

"I, ah…" Harry broke off, and looked over his shoulder. He could have sworn that a spell had just hit the door to the hall again.

"What?" The snake asked a third time, in precisely the same tone and inflection as it had used twice before.

With a flash of insight, Harry realised that this snake had no intelligence behind it. It worked just like a Muggle device. Give it the right input, and it will give the right output. Feed it rubbish, and you get nowhere. It was easy to forget that magic devices didn't _have_ to have intelligence.

"Can you show me the room?" He asked in Parseltongue.

The door gave a loud clunk, and then opened, revealing the same room they had just left. Confused, Harry gazed around it, trying to see what was different. On the second pass, it hit him. The open scroll was gone, and in its place was a collection of loose leafed papers. He strode over to it, and touched the paper gently, as though it might bite. It was written in a small, thin script, and might as well have been written in Greek to Harry, although he had a suspicion it was Latin, instead.

"Salazar has protected his abode with a protective spell he and Rowena Ravenclaw had created between them." The wandmaker was reading over Harry's shoulder. "This is being written in case the need arises to break the charm, in –"

"This is it." Harry interrupted quietly. "This is it." He looked up to see Celandine looking down at him from the portrait. "Thank you." He whispered earnestly.

Harry fumbled in his robe, and withdrew a button. He handed it to Ollivander, who looked rather bemused.

"This is a Portkey." He explained. "It will take you to Dumbledore's office. Here," he added, handing him the papers as well, "take this with you."

At Ollivander's raised eyebrows, Harry continued in exasperation. "Look, if you decide to return to neutrality, you can keep the damn thing. Just as long as Voldemort doesn't get his hands upon it."

If Harry had looked up, he would have seen Celandine's portrait smile.

"You are not coming with me." It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry searched his pockets once more, feeling restless. He found the second button, and showed it to Ollivander. "I'll be coming behind you."

"But." Ollivander prompted.

"But someone has to tell Professor Dumbledore he can stop stalling Voldemort. I have an Invisibility Cloak, it makes sense for me to go."

Ollivander nodded, but before he could have raised an argument anyway, Harry had tapped the button in the wandmaker's hand. "Activate."

As Ollivander vanished, tugged away by the Portkey, Harry felt his heart slowly rise, until it was pounding just below his throat. Never had he felt so aware of… of _everything_. His ears picked up every distant explosion, he could smell the ozone in the air, taste the smoke, see the room around him in crystal clear vision. The blood pumping through his veins pounded with each heartbeat, causing his scar to throb. Realising he had been holding his breath; he let it out in a hiss.

Striding back to the door, he swept the cloak over him, momentarily grasping the Portkey in his wand hand. Nodding his head, making up his mind, he slipped the button back into his pocket.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The entire right side of Dumbledore's body looked scorched, and Harry immediately noticed a slight limp. As he had gathered, they were now fighting in the room he and Dumbledore had warned Ollivander in. Each piece of furniture that got into harm's way, and each piece of wall that had been blasted, seemed to heal themselves almost as quickly as they had been destroyed. As Harry crouched through the door leading to the hallway, and as it began to repair itself again, he watched two curses fly past their targets, and hit the walls behind their opponent. While Voldemort's green curse caused a chunk of plaster to fly out, Dumbledore's curse seemed to be absorbed by the wall.

Harry sidestepped to the relative calm of the side of the room. _This was insane_.

"Enough of your wards and pitiful charms, Dumbledore: fight me like a man." Voldemort snarled, as the mayhem abated for a fraction of a second.

"An interesting choice of words, Tom. Have you not noticed that the longer you have abused your magic to destructive ends, the less of your humanity remains?"

"If any of my humanity has gone, then it has been worth it, old man. Perhaps I am no longer fully human, I am so much _more_. Who else has cheated death?"

"Harry Potter, for one." Dumbledore replied serenely, causing Harry's eyes to bulge in amazement, as the brief respite was immediately over, and Voldemort's wand was levelled at Dumbledore in unadulterated fury.

The floor began to shake furiously, a localised earthquake that rocked the very walls. As the ground felt as though it disappeared beneath him, Harry scrambled closer to Voldemort, where the floor was stable. Any noise he made was covered by the general carnage, both inside and out. For one dreadful second he thought he had lost hold of the cloak, but Voldemort obviously hadn't seen. A chandelier above Dumbledore fell to the ground, along with most of the ceiling. The debris bounced off a transparent shield, and Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had glanced straight at him. A second later, Dumbledore had made a quick motion, and the ground began to stabilise.

_Why the hell am I doing this?_

He might have been wondering the sanity of this idea of his, but Harry wasn't backing out. In order to get the best shot – to get any shot – at Voldemort, he had to get closer, and out of Voldemort's view. Allow Voldemort any warning, and he was the one likely to feel an Unforgivable. The door behind Voldemort was slowly rebuilding itself, but that would be the ideal place to be. Right behind him.

"-Umbra!" Voldemort shouted the last word of his incantation, and the light around him blinked out. He was surrounded by total blackness. Harry used the opportunity to pick his way along the wall. Dumbledore did not bother attempting to hit Voldemort with a lucky shot, instead he focussed on the walls, stopping his incanting only once, as he stepped aside to avoid another killing curse which shot out from the depths of shadow.

Abruptly, Dumbledore's attention snapped back to the shroud of shadow, and Harry's back to him. Extending his wand, he made a motion like a fishing rod being cast, and as he brought the wand back upright, the shadow moved towards him. Harry heard a snarl from his side – _was he alongside Voldemort already? _– and listened carefully as Voldemort moved closer, sending spells towards Dumbledore as he went. Dumbledore sidestepped the killing curse, and shielded himself from each of the others with consummate ease. Harry crouched closer to the wall, sidestepping his way along, avoiding the furniture that had flown across the room sometime earlier, and had repaired themselves. He reached the corner and turned, the dark cloud vanished upon touching whatever ward Dumbledore had laid across the room.

Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort, and inhaled. _Now?_

Something advised him against it, and he watched as Dumbledore simultaneously twirled away from a curse that hit the wall behind him, vanishing upon impact, and gestured with his hand, as though pulling something up from the ground. The floor began to shake again, but this time it was centred on Voldemort. With a scornful look, Voldemort cast a hovering charm. He didn't notice when the first of the vines erupted from the ground. At least two inches in diameter, they looked like they could crush like an Anaconda, and one began to wrap around Voldemort's leg, another around his waist. The first vine yanked, and Voldemort found himself on his back, more vines reaching for a hold, almost Devil's Snare-like. A word from him, and an explosion rocked the room, sending dust everywhere, and obscuring vision. Harry heard an exclamation from Dumbledore. Even had Harry decided now was the time to go for it, the vines and the dust cloud were in his way. The door leading out to the shop front had been destroyed yet again.

Harry slowly made his way towards it, wand never leaving the centre of the room._ I wanted to be there: well here's my chance._

A loud grunt from Voldemort suggested that either the vines were still effective, or he had been struck by something else. The room cleared, leaving a thin layer of dust floating in the atmosphere. The vines holding Voldemort had withered into a sickly brown, and loosened their grip.

He got to his feet, and snarled towards Albus Dumbledore. "You should have tried to finish me when you had the chance; no witch or wizard is strong enough to take _me_ alive."

Dumbledore's response was to shift his stance so that he was facing Voldemort, weight centred. Harry could feel the electricity in the air, it sizzled, pieces of dust inflaming for a millisecond, and then disappearing, clearing the air. Lines of pressure began to fill the room, as though it were possible to see the wind blowing. Despite that, Harry felt no gale or cyclone. He slipped through the unwatched door.

"Crucio!"

The light from the curse exited Voldemort's wand, and moved towards Dumbledore, but as if in slow motion. Rooted to the spot, framed by the door, Harry realised that this 'wind' was completely magical: it only affected magic. The curse pierced the barrier the Headmaster had constructed, _but Harry was sure that it was closer to Voldemort than when he created it_. Dumbledore avoided the spell easily.

"You prove my point, old fool. Do you expect something like this, to hold me?"

An inferno danced in the middle of the room, carefully moulded into a wall. It was pushed slowly towards Voldemort, but unevenly, as if the wall was breaking up. Voldemort clicked his fingers, and the wall was gone, taking Dumbledore's charm with it. A large piece of the door affixed itself to the wall as it mended itself, and soon the fight was shielded from Harry's view.

Looking behind him, Harry almost forgot himself and exclaimed. In the doorway, and just inside the shop front, were three prone people. Harry couldn't tell if they were alive or not. Beside the two men were bulky cameras, and the witch seemed to have been dictating to a piece of paper charmed to weather almost anything. It still lay beside her, if crumpled, and dusty.

This changed things. If he tried, and failed, then he should be able to escape with the Portkey, but those three reporters would feel the brunt of Voldemort's wrath. Unsure of what to do, he got out of the line of fire, and made his way towards them. He still had that Portkey after all.

Hermione's voice echoed in his mind: "…_saving-people thing…_"

Harry quashed it, angrily. He could hardly leave them here.

_BANG!_

Voldemort shot through the door, splinters flying everywhere. Harry thanked fate that he had moved out of the line of fire. The man formerly known as Tom Riddle got to his feet. A glance took in the bodies of the reporters, and a gesture brought one of them flying towards him. Summoning people in that way risked grave injury, but Voldemort would hardly care. Floating the man in mid-air as a human shield, Voldemort caught his breath, and recomposed himself.

"What now, Dumbledore? I seem to remember your refusing to kill your precious student, even though you might have taken me with him. Do you care so much about a worthless reporter?"

"All lives have value, Tom. Any loss of life is a waste." How Dumbledore could control his voice so, Harry had no idea, but it was as calm as when he had taken Harry for Occlumency lessons.

Voldemort laughed. "Even mine? I somehow doubt all those headless chickens who run the Ministry would agree. Who would mourn my death, apart from my loyal supporters? No matter, they will never get the chance, anyway."

"Especially you, Tom. I have long mourned the loss of a wizard with both power and intelligence. You had the ability to do great things, Tom. Great things." Dumbledore was advancing now, the wind having vanished.

"I have _done_ great things you idealistic old fool. Not all of us are content with the filth, ineptitude, and ignorance of the dregs of life that call themselves witches and wizards. I offer a way to change that. _That_ will be a greater feat than even you could imagine, dreamer."

Dumbledore's spell was aimed at Voldemort's feat, but Voldemort merely sidestepped. As the flash of light hit the ground the floor blackened and hardened. Voldemort's riposte was to calmly point his wand at the unconscious man's shoulder.

"Do you think he'll be able to hold a camera with only one arm, Dumbledore?" He smiled. "Separacorpus."

Dumbledore's hasty shield diverted the worst of the charm, but it still hit, obviously breaking the bone fully. A dark stain appeared through the robes, and the man twitched as though he was about to wake up.

"Wouldn't this be more fun if he was awake, Dumbledore? How about it? A simple spell, and then you get to watch him react each time you cast a spell. How about I bring his two friends over to play?" Voldemort looked to the entranceway, looking straight past Harry, and his cloak, but behind the body of the prone hostage, his hand was forming a spell. He seemed to be able to do two things at once.

While Voldemort continued to look away, his hand stopped moving, spell complete. Bolts of pure energy appeared in the room Dumbledore was standing in, too many to count. As he turned back with a sneer on his face, they arrowed in towards Dumbledore, but rather than fading away, or falling inert after they hit Dumbledore's hastily erected shield, they merely tried again. As Dumbledore was buffeted from side to side, muttering a counter to the spell. Voldemort cast a sickly yellow curse that made Harry sweat. The Pulmelido curse.

Dumbledore created a black space of – _nothingness_ – that floated in mid air, and retreated under the continued barrage. His incantation had been interrupted, but you wouldn't have known it by the speed he picked up the broken threads of the spell. The Pulmelido curse entered the hole, and didn't come out the other side, as did one of the bolts of energy, but Dumbledore had been forced back to where the dead vines lay, and as he finally finished his spell, and the bolts vanished, he stumbled.

"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled in victory. The curse hit Albus Dumbledore before he had a chance to regain his feet, and simultaneously Voldemort flung away the man in front of him.

Dumbledore's body twitched and bucked yet no screams left his mouth. Instead, deep grasps for air came, just as frightening as a scream would have been for Harry. Dumbledore's eyes were gleaming, even as his body convulsed, but he couldn't break the curse. Harry forced himself to move, and, sidestepping so that Voldemort was directly between him and the tortured headmaster, he raised his wand. _If now isn't the time, I don't know what is_.

"You are still merely a man, Dumbledore." Voldemort was panting as he held the curse, and talked at the same time. "As I warned you, I am so much more."

Steeling himself, Harry visualised the jagged mark his wand would have to make to cast the most Unforgivable of curses. He desperately tried to remember each little deviation that the book Aravenne had wanted him to study had shown. His arm was trembling. He forced it steady.

Finish it now, and all the set-backs the Wizarding World had faced because of Voldemort, all Fudge's ineptitude would mean nothing. Finish it now, and Hogsmeade would return to its normal hustle and bustle. Finish it now, and his parents, and Sirius, would finally be avenged. Finish it now, and neither he nor Ginny would remember their argument in the morning.

He allowed the cloak to slip off him, and, whispering a prayer of hope, spoke the incantation.

"Avada Kedavra."

The scene was mesmerising. As if in slow motion, Voldemort turned in shock, releasing the Cruciatus curse as he did so. His eyes moved from the green flash of light to Harry's revealed body. They bored into Harry. Was that fear Harry saw? Or was it merely astonishment that Harry was here and had used The Curse? Maybe it was fury.

Time sped up.

Voldemort completed his turn. The green light struck him in the stomach, and he bent as though felled by a punch to the gut. His wand flew out of his hand, landing a good few metres away. The eyes, which stayed fixed upon Harry, seemed to glaze over slightly as he was forced down to one knee. Voldemort coughed up blood.

The eyes blazed.

Voldemort pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "You!" He spat, more blood hitting the floor. "Harry Potter. The World's Saviour. It appears your little protégé has no qualms about using power, Dumbledore."

"Falxia!" Harry yelled, terror rising unbidden.

Voldemort's shield blocked most of the curse, but he doubled over in pain once more as it hit him directly across the chest. When he regained a firm base, his robe was becoming sticky, and wet. A wordless snarl, and the door between them and Dumbledore slammed shut. A squelch sounded, as the Colloportus charm came into effect, and a cacophony of other noises split the night as more charms guarded the entrance. It seemed to have gone silent behind Harry, as though the combatants in Diagon Alley had vanished.

"You show promise, Harry." Voldemort said, his breath hitching. "But your teaching in the most powerful curses seems to be sadly lacking. I would offer to teach you if you would but swear allegiance to me."

"Never." Harry replied, in a voice as deadly cold as Snape could muster. He raised his wand again. "Effringo."

Harry's spell met Voldemort's as it left his hand, and they dissipated harmlessly.

"I was sure that would be your answer. Besides, I am not sure I would like to leave you alive, and steeped in knowledge. You have ambition, Harry. I can see it in your heart; just as I saw it in your memories."

"Quassossis!" Harry yelled, and this time, Voldemort created a physical shield, which vanished as it absorbed the spell. Harry's hand found his pocket, and the button that was a Portkey.

"Enough." Voldemort flung out his hand, and his wand jumped into it from where it had fallen. "I believe this is what you were trying to do." He raised his arm, and took a step forwards, as Harry grabbed the Portkey, and tensed to spring out of the way. "Ava-"

Voldemort slipped. The black ice that Dumbledore's wayward spell had caused came to Harry's rescue. Voldemort fell with a yell of pain, as the tumble stressed his injured body. The word to activate the Portkey died on Harry's lips.

"Falxiardor!" He yelled; the spell made a cut in the air a few centimetres in front of Voldemort, but that was all.

Harry saw movement over Voldemort's shoulder, as he got to his feet.

"Farcio. Rejicia!"

Harry hadn't aimed the second curse at Voldemort: he had aimed it at the ground beside him. It exploded slightly behind Voldemort, and the force sent Voldemort flying across the room towards the two unconscious reporters by the door. As the curse struck the floor, the door behind him blasted open, revealing an unsteady Albus Dumbledore.

A flick of his wand, and Voldemort's momentum was increased so he flew through the door, along with the shield that had protected him from any injury. As he left, the door slammed behind him, and the protections that he had initially tricked his way through came into effect.

There was silence, as Headmaster examined student, and student anxiously looked back, summing up the injuries Dumbledore had incurred.

Grasping onto the door frame, Dumbledore ducked through the hole in the middle of the door, which was already beginning to mend itself. Harry almost rushed forward to help when Dumbledore stumbled, but he regained his footing, and leaned against the wall, still watching Harry.

For some reason, Harry's heart was almost as close to his throat as at any time during the fight, as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak.

"I believe, Harry, that I owe you my thanks." He nodded slowly, as though to affirm the statement. "Although it does seem that your penchant for disobeying rules, and the occasional order, will never be repressed."

He didn't know why, but Harry found himself laughing; he shook his head and forcefully tried to stop.

Dumbledore smiled, as heartfelt a gesture as Harry had ever seen. "It's the adrenalin, Harry, it needs a way to get out." He summoned the wicker chair to him, and sat with a groan. "I want you to know that I am as far from being disappointed in you and your actions than you can imagine."

"Even though I used… _that_ curse." Harry jumped in.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. How else could you be expected to kill a man with so much more experience than you? You did not ask to be put in this situation, but yet again you have shouldered a man's burdens, and stood tall. Few men have had the courage you showed, when face to face with Tom Riddle, and lived. Even fewer have drawn blood, and less again drawn blood by magical means."

"You saw?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I heard."

Harry looked at the two reporters by the door, and then the broken body Voldemort had discarded. "Are they-" He began, and then stopped. A thought had just occurred to him. "What about the people outside, now Voldemort's there?"

Dumbledore's reassuring raised hand silenced him. "I somehow doubt that Tom will wish to be seen by followers, or foes, in his current state. With his re-entry barred by the Ollivander's charms, he will leave, and lick his wounds. I am afraid his followers will suffer a great deal of pain tomorrow, and some will not survive." As if struck by an afterthought, he added: "I must remember to keep Severus engaged in activities that prevent him from being by Tom's side for the next couple of days."

He glanced back in Harry's direction. "I take it you still have the Portkey you were supposed to use?" As Harry nodded, he continued. "Good. I will join you in my study, once I have helped put an end to the ruckus outside." He nodded towards the broken bodies. "Medi-wizards will take care of them."

As Harry looked at him doubtfully, Dumbledore chuckled. "There is life in these old bones yet. After a minute or two to deal with the remnants of the curse left in my system, I will be strong enough." With an almost mischievous look, he made a motion with his wand, and two potions appeared on the floor before him. "Severus' potions also help a great deal."

With a reluctant nod, Harry opened the closed fist in which lay the Portkey.

* * *

_A/N: So, as I said above, what _do_ you think of the chapter? Reviews are welcome, more than welcome in fact - so I must give my thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and told me what they think - it means a lot._

_I always think that duels with Dumbledore and Voldemort in can be so... predictable. They've been studying magic for a lot longer than Harry... they should be able to do things he can barely dream of. So I tried to shake it up a bit._


	33. Manipulation

**Chapter 33: Manipulation**

Harry found himself grinning as he walked through the Hogwarts corridors on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, and for a second he wondered why exactly. He felt lighter somehow, as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders which led to an indescribable feeling of pleasure. Letting the question slide for a moment, he strolled onwards.

Portraits either side of him were snoozing, except for one which depicted a werewolf howling at the full moon. Harry wondered how on earth the portraits around _could_ snooze, before he noticed ear plugs in each picture. It made Harry think of Moony, and he had a sudden feeling of unease. Remus had to be okay – Dumbledore would have said otherwise, wouldn't he?

Harry picked up the pace. Maybe he could contact him through the mirror. He started grinning again; no longer was he the hunted. Maybe he wasn't exactly the hunter either, but Harry had fought Voldemort on his own terms. He had not been tricked, or ambushed, or in any way provoked to be there. Harry had made the conscious decision to fight Voldemort, and Voldemort had had no choice about it. He might not have been successful, but surely he had to have planted a seed of doubt into the self-styled Dark Lord's mind. Harry wondered who the last person to have actually gone looking for a fight with Voldemort was.

He stopped in front of the Fat Lady, who was remarkably awake considering the hour. She had an expression of relief on her face as she saw Harry.

"There you are, dear. Give me the password, and get into the comfort of the Tower."

_What exactly had the portraits and ghosts been saying?_

"Chivalry." Harry said. He still felt too pumped up to even consider sleeping, but it would be nice to get in to warmth.

Voices were speaking as he ducked through the portrait hole, but their owners didn't hear him enter.

"He's not there Hermione." Ron was sounding stressed. "I told you, Myrtle claimed Harry had gone into the Chamber of Secrets with Snape."

"There's no way Harry would have gone anywhere with that s-" Ginny was cut across by Hermione.

"Maybe Snape made him go down there in detention-"

"Snape wanted him to finish the potion, not open the sink." Ron interrupted. "Anyway, Nick said Snape had disappeared out the main gate."

"Er." Harry began, but none of the three heard them, they were too busy gazing at the fire with their backs to him.

"He's not in the Owlery," Ron continued, "the Come-and-Go room isn't in use. Even Harry's not stupid enough to go into the Forbidden Forest on his own at this time."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, and spoke a little louder. "Um, guys?"

"I checked the towers," Hermione said in a tone of near panic, "he's not there! Ginny couldn't get through to Remus, and he wasn't answering Harry's mirror. I don't–"

"Dumbledore and McGonagall aren't here, we _have_ to floo home, Ron." Ginny was the one who butted in this time.

"Do that, and we could sign Harry's death warrant! Not to mention ours! If Mum finds out Harry is –"

"Guys!" Harry yelled.

The three of them jumped to their feet, and spun around. Finally they had shut up.

"Er, looking for someone?" Harry grinned.

"Where have you been?" Hermione's tone was almost a shriek.

"Whoa – calm down. I'm fine okay, nothing to worry about. I just had to go to see Ollivander with Dumbledore."

"At this time?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"Well… I got another note-" Harry began, and then stopped.

Between Ginny and Hermione, Ron's face had taken on an odd expression, he almost looked as if he were about to be sick. He looked away for a few seconds, but something about his stance caused everyone to stay both motionless, and speechless. When he looked back, his countenance was almost expressionless.

"Ron?" Harry asked.

"You're okay though?" Ron said, his voice sounding normal.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine. You okay?"

Ron nodded absently, and then as suddenly as a coiling snake could strike, he strode past Harry in a walk that was almost a run, wrenched the portrait hole back open, and stormed through. He slammed it behind him.

The three who were left were silent for a long while, until Harry spoke up.

"Ah, okay… Anyone mind telling me what that was?"

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and then back at Harry, looking uncertain. Ginny shook her head. "I have no idea."

Hermione said nothing.

"What happened?" Ginny asked. "We've been looking everywhere for you, we were trying to decide if we should tell whoever's home at the Burrow, or go to Aravenne, to see if he knew anything."

Harry glanced back behind him in the direction of the entrance once more. He shook his head. "I don't want to tell any of you before anyone else. I want to tell you all together." He fixed Hermione with his gaze. "You know what it's about, Hermione, don't you? I mean you two seem to be inseparable."

She blushed slightly, but when she had regained her poise, she shook her head as though undecided, before saying slowly, "No… I can guess, but, well, I don't know if it's right or not."

"Well?" Harry prompted.

Hermione didn't answer immediately; she looked like she was gathering her thoughts.

"Do you remember what Ron said when you first told us about the Prophecy?"

"Yeah, something like: 'even if I have to kill him, it doesn't stop him being there, fighting alongside me', so?"

"How many times have you been in danger this year, and Ron has been there, fighting beside you?" Hermione said gently.

Harry looked at her in confusion. "You mean he feels _guilty_?" He asked eventually.

Harry spun around, and made to open the door.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked.

"To knock some sense into your brother's rock hard brain."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes as he exited the portrait. Whether it was at the Fat Lady's remonstrations, or Ron, even he wasn't sure. Maybe a bit of both. Ron was just so insecure, after all, and the Fat Lady seemed to have become as hysterical as his friends had been. Harry strode off towards the main staircases, he could check for Ron on the map, but Harry was certain he wouldn't need it. There were two places Ron might be: on a broomstick, or in the Room of Requirement. Harry couldn't imagine Ron going flying at this time. Besides, despite a clear sky and full moon (_maybe that's why you couldn't reach Remus, Hermione…_), there was no hint of anything happening outside. Harry actually started to feel a touch guilty himself – if Hermione had been too worried to remember that, then they must have been anxious.

As he expected, there was a door when he reached the corridor belonging to the Room of Requirement. Something smashed as he was about to open it, and Harry jumped back reflexively. Wondering what on earth Ron could be doing, Harry turned the handle.

Some kind of ornament – Harry didn't have time to discover what – was about three metres away, and travelling towards Harry's head at breakneck speed. Harry didn't have time to do more than turn his head so it wouldn't do as much damage. It never hit him. Harry opened an eye, glanced back inside the room, and then looked down. The item had vanished as soon as it had tried to leave.

Harry walked inside.

Ron, who was panting, glared at him. "I don't want to talk, Harry, okay?"

Harry leant against the wall of the room, which was continuously changing; sometimes it was small, sometimes huge, sometimes narrow, sometimes with a low ceiling, sometimes with none at all. Ron was systematically destroying items as they appeared. A rather impressive kick sent a glass bowl straight towards Harry. Harry didn't move, or flinch – he had already decided he needed protection, so the Room responded to his need, and directed the missile away from him.

Harry couldn't help it. He gave a chuckle, and an amused shake of the head.

"Damn it. Why didn't I think of this?" It turned into a full blown laugh. "Mind if I join you, Ron?"

Ron glared at him, and the Room remained in its current state: as big as a Quidditch pitch. Grinning, Harry explained. "I could really have done with this last year… and some of this for that matter. Plus it would have saved Dumbledore's possessions last year."

"What?" The tension in Ron's taut body lessened.

"After Sirius died, I basically did what you are doing now, just in Dumbledore's office."

Ron looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Look, Ron, I really need to talk with you, Ginny, and Hermione. Apart from not wanting to continuously repeat myself, I think you all deserve to be told what happened tonight together."

"Deserve?" Ron's voice was angry and there was a note in it Harry could sympathise with. Ron was feeling just as useless as Harry had last year, and, right or wrong, just as bitter as he had been, for he felt he wasn't trusted enough to help. "I haven't been there for you. I've done nothing." A Beater's bat appeared in his hand, and he hit a Bludger through a greenhouse.

"Yes Ron, deserve. You are my anchor. Well all three of you. You put up with me when I feel, well, rubbish to be honest, even though I take it out on you. You have no idea what it's like wh-" Harry took a breath, trying to decide the best way to say this. "You three are the only friends I've ever had. You have no idea what that means to me. You three stick with me whatever happens."

Remembering their argument in fourth year, Harry winced slightly internally, and hoped Ron wasn't thinking of it. Besides, apart from those couple of months, what he had said was true.

"Hell, you three have kept me sane through the last six years –"

"You sure about that?" Ron said, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself.

"Well, as sane as could be expected. Look, without you helping me through everything, I'd probably be dead by now. In fact, I know I would: I've used memories of our friendship for Patronuses, Ron. And there is no way I would have survived against Rabastan Lestrange if it weren't for you."

"And how exactly did I help you at Halloween? At Christmas? What use was I at the Department of Mysteries last year? How did I help you when You-Know-Who came back?"

Harry opened his mouth to argue that his not being there was hardly his fault. Ron prevented him.

"But it wouldn't have mattered, Harry. How can I help someone who can kill Dementors? How can I help someone that defeats Death Eaters on his own? Hermione can tell you almost anything, not to mention work out mysteries, or whatever. What can I do? Ginny's more of a Magus then I am, and she hasn't even touched it in class."

"And how did I do anything to help last year?" Harry responded immediately. "What I did do just made a mess of things, remember? What about all the other times there have been fights this year, and I haven't been there? Should I beat myself up because people were hurt in those attacks? Sometimes you're just not in the right place to fight. It's chance, that's all it is."

"You did beat yourself up, Harry. Remember?" Ron said angrily.

"Well I shouldn't have, okay? You were right, I was wrong. I should have listened to you three." Harry took a breath, he didn't want to get into a heated argument with Ron. In fact, considering he came here to calm Ron down, and try to stop him blaming himself, he wasn't doing a very good job.

"Look, even if you were right, and you weren't good at magic – which is rubbish by the way – that's not even the most important thing when fighting. You keep your head in a fight, Ron. Remember Aravenne's first class? You were in the first row, and yet you reacted quickly enough to get out of the way, and were the first to start firing back with me too. You and Hermione sometimes claim I'm a natural at it. You aren't far off that yourself."

Ron started to scoff, but Harry overrode him.

"Ron, there's no-one else I'd want at my back in a fight. No-one."

"You really mean that." Ron sounded surprised; so surprised, that the anger left his voice, and he grinned. "I bet you'd rather Dumbledore was at your back, mate."

"If Dumbledore was at my back, and hadn't dealt with all of the enemy on his own, I'd be in serious trouble." Harry grinned. "Nah, I'd much rather you were at my back. The kind of trouble we attract, we've always managed to get through.

"Come on," Harry inclined his head to the corridor outside, "I really need to tell you three what happened. Plus Hermione and Ginny will be wondering what on earth has happened to us. Just… promise you won't bite my head off." Harry added.

"Merlin, what have you done now…" Ron mumbled under his breath, but purposely loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry knew he hadn't managed to persuade Ron – he was probably nowhere near that – but he had managed to calm him down. He had practically told Harry straight out that he felt the useless Weasley in first year. That wouldn't just go away; but at least this was a start. Tonight, with the weight on his shoulders vanished, he felt he could now deal with everything that had been piling up _on_ _top_ of that weight. Whether this was enough to stop him 'beating himself up', as he was telling Ron to, he wasn't sure, but there was no way he would let Ron go where he had gone if he could help it.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"So that's it, basically." Harry shrugged. He had told them everything he could remember, although Pettigrew and the Chamber felt weeks ago. "I used the Unforgivable on purpose, and followed up with spells that if Aravenne is wrong, are Dark spells."

"So?" Ron said. "What's your point?"

"And you're okay with that?" Harry probed, feeling a little nervous.

"Why wouldn't we be? We hardly expect you to use tickling charms to kill Vol- Voldemort." Ginny said.

"Didn't you listen to us at all when you told us the Prophecy?" Hermione asked.

"You mean when I yelled it at you." Harry said, a little sheepishly and grinned.

"You're remarkably cheerful for someone who was in the middle of a fight between the two strongest Wizards in Britain." Hermione observed.

Harry shrugged again, then quipped: "This is the first time I've fought Voldemort or his Death Eaters, and not had to listen to Madam Pomfrey's lectures, or drink some of her vile potions afterwards."

The two Weasleys obviously appreciated the humour, but Hermione did her best McGonagall impression instead. "This isn't the time for jokes, Harry. Be serious."

"I am, actually." Harry told her. "You've no idea how good it feels to have been where I was, and not end up in the Hospital Wing. I didn't get a scratch! But anyway, before, deep down, I always felt the Prophecy said that I _might_ do it, I _might_ kill Voldemort. Now I feel like I _can_ beat him. If you get what I mean."

He held up his hand to stop what he imagined Hermione's response would be.

"I'm not saying the fact I'm here isn't down to his long duel with Dumbledore too. But that doesn't matter. Maybe I will end up fighting him when he's magically drained, or has his back turned. Maybe not, but at least I have the belief that I can kill him."

Hermione shook her head. "I wasn't going to say I doubted you. I was going to ask how you felt after using the Avada Kedavra curse."

"Fine I guess, I mean, my other spells worked okay. Why?" Harry replied, thrown.

He couldn't read Hermione's expression when she answered him. "It's just, that was only the second time you've used that curse, and it nearly worked, right? The other time you used it, your magic was weaker for the next few days."

Harry stayed quiet for a few seconds. "I hadn't thought of that. Does that mean that the more I cast it, the less effort it will take?"

"I doubt it." Hermione said. "But probably each time you make the curse, your wand motion gets better, and maybe your enunciation too."

"Or," Harry continued, "it means my subconscious finds it easier to learn what spell I'm trying to do, and finds the right curse itself. So my wand movement stays the same, but it still gets easier."

"You'd have to ask Professor Aravenne about that." Hermione said.

"It doesn't really matter." Harry became serious again. "What matters, is what happened outside while we were at Ollivanders. And if what we found really does lead us – well, Dumbledore – to the Scrivenings."

The mood became sober once more.

"So this does mean that we'll find wherever the Scrivenings are then?" Ginny asked.

"I don't think so. Well not immediately. If Dumbledore does whatever Ollivander's thing tells him to do, he'll break the Fidelius charm, and that's too risky. He wants to get through it without breaking it. He said it should make it relatively easy to narrow everything down though, but seeing as the Fidelius is protecting the location of wherever Slytherin lived after Hogwarts rather than anything to do with Scrivenings..." As Ron opened his mouth, Harry beat him to it, shrugging. "I haven't a clue how long it'll take, so don't ask."

"Well, it shouldn't matter if it takes a while," Ron said, "I mean, You-Know-Who can't find where it is now you've got those directions, right?"

"Just because we stopped Voldemort getting these ones, doesn't mean he can't find something that helps him elsewhere. I mean, he knew more than we did about what it was Ollivander had: we just guessed the Ollivanders might have had something, Voldemort knew for certain." Harry pointed out. "He even knew enough about Slytherin's family to tell Ollivander Sirius was descended from Slytherin, didn't he?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's not exactly surprising, Harry. There's probably a lot of people out there with some sort of connection to any of the Founders. Voldemort can't be the only one left alive descended from him. Half the Muggles in Britain are related to ancient royalty in some convoluted fashion, and there are way more Muggles than Witches or Wizards."

"I guess, if you put it like that. I suppose it was the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' thing that surprised me. Does that mean the rest of us are probably related to him?" Harry grinned, sweeping out a hand to encompass the two Weasleys.

"Maybe you really are the Heir of Slytherin, mate." Ron chortled.

"Shut it – if one of the portraits wakes up and hears that, it'll be all around school." Harry said wryly.

"But anyway, maybe he's got better contacts, or some of his Death Eaters have something." He continued, returning to the point. "And we still don't know why Pettigrew was in the Chamber, do we? What if Pettigrew has found something, or done something that helps him? There's too many ways he might find something out."

"I guess." Ron said in disappointment.

Ginny gave one parting remark, as she went up to bed. "Harry, if this happens again can you at least let us know you're doing something dangerous and stupid?"

"Because we want in." Ron added.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry woke up the next morning, some of the giddiness of the previous night had gone, but despite that (and the fact that he felt like he had only just gone to bed) he still felt better than he had, quite possibly, since Voldemort's return. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had already left the dormitory, so Harry opened the curtains around Ron's bed, and tossed a book at the snoring redhead.

Ignoring the complaints, Harry called out cheerfully. "Come on Ron, it's the last day before the holidays, you can sleep in tomorrow." He answered Ron's unintelligible grunt in a much softer, more serious tone. "And I want to see what Hermione's Daily Prophet says."

Despite everything, Harry was still on edge by the time they had entered the Great Hall, for it felt like the portraits had been stalking him. A couple of the paintings looked more like group photos than anything else. It didn't help that once they had got there they found that the Daily Prophets had arrived. Harry could tell that much by the buzz of noise. It was always quieter when it was caused by the newspaper, instead of him.

"Here." Hermione said in a small voice, as they joined her at the Gryffindor table.

"And good morning to you too." Ron grinned.

Harry tuned the rest of the conversation out. Taking up half of the front page, was a picture of Dumbledore and Voldemort duelling.

**Dumbledore Duels the Dark Lord.**

_Headmaster of Hogwarts steps in to save __Master Wandmaker._

_Terror gripped Diagon Alley last night,_ writes Pádraig O'Flaherty, _as not only Death Eaters, but also He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, appeared without warning in the dark hours of yesterday night. Whilst his Death Eaters continued what they had started over Christmas, including the destruction of the joke shop Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which had stubbornly resisted them before, along with much of Diagon Alley itself, You-Know-Who walked directly to Ollivander's. Why would he be going there last night, if not to threaten the Wandmaker who has supplied virtually all of Wizarding Britain?_

_Things did not go according to plan, however, for soon there were the sounds of a duel which made the fighting outside appear insignificant. Why? Albus Dumbledore was also at Ollivander's. Whether he was there before You-Know-Who, or whether he merely managed to get there in time to save Ollivander's life, is not known. It is not even known if Dumbledore _had_ been in time. For what is known, is that Mr Aloysius Ollivander has not been seen since._

Harry looked at Hermione, the Weasley twins' joke shop? She nodded at him to keep reading, face drawn and pale, lips tightly pursed, and saying nothing. He found himself drifting through the next paragraphs, which explained how and why Wandmakers have stayed out of wars before now. The author then asked if it was Ollivander who had decided to help the Light, or Voldemort who broke the covenant.

Harry closed his eyes in frustration, and then skimmed the rest of the article, which turned into an eye-witness account. It was summed up by the last paragraph.

_Three of my colleagues were badly injured as a result of discovering this story. They are now in St Mungo's; I was the lucky one. I have now seen for my own eyes that Dumbledore is the only man who can match You-Know-Who in a duel. We can only hope that __either the Boy-Who-Lived proves to be a second such Wizard, or that Albus Dumbledore will finally end this menace._

Harry looked up, and stopped the swear word he wanted to scream. He gave the paper to Ron, and then looked at Hermione, suddenly fearing the worst.

"They are okay, aren't they?" He didn't need to qualify the pronoun.

Hermione nodded.

Harry shook his head in mild disbelief. "The clever ba- I bet Voldemort made sure the reporters were there, and that they got this story. This way, the Prophet suggests it might have been Ollivander who broke that stupid agreement."

Hermione stayed silent, but gave a small shrug. Harry hadn't noticed, but her eyes looked watery.

"What else happened?" Harry asked.

"Apart from the fact that most of Diagon Alley isn't there any more?" Hermione asked bitterly. She didn't look like she wanted to continue. "Kingsley Shacklebolt is dead." She said at last.

Harry sat back, as though to try to distance himself from the news. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Kingsley was one of the Order Members they knew quite well. He'd always been a calming presence, making them feel safe around him, and he had always treated them as if they had feelings, and opinions, just as much as the adults.

"And so is Katie Bell's father." She added.

Harry wrenched his neck around to look down the other end of the table. None of the seventh years were there, male or female. Katie had always been well liked. If Kingsley's death had been a punch, Katie's father's had been a jinx.

Ron looked up from the paper in shock. "Katie? Kingsley?"

No-one said anything for what could have been minutes. Food remained untouched. Ron was the one who quietly broke it.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the writer was a Death Eater, or else Imperioed, Harry. Once people start to say that they already knew Dumbledore was strong enough… the article's going to sap morale. It's basically saying don't fight, just pray someone else does."

He turned the page over, and started to read again.

"How many Death Eaters?" Harry asked Hermione, trying to hide his feelings.

"About five dead, twenty captured." She answered.

"So five less to deal with – the other twenty will probably escape or be freed. How many of the rest of us?" He asked again, taking a deep breath; he was developing a tendency to ask questions he didn't want to know the answers to.

"Too many. Six Aurors, another eleven badly injured. And thirty or forty civilians either dead or missing."

"Ha." Ron exclaimed quietly in disbelief. "I don't believe them." He looked across the table at Harry. "Fred and George are saying that they will still operate by mail order, until they can rebuild the shop, or get one elsewhere. And they're releasing our Death Eater chess sets too."

"At least someone is making an effort to show they're keeping on fighting." Harry muttered.

Because of the carnage in Diagon Alley, and the losses suffered by students, the day was sombre in general; apart from some few Slytherins, like Malfoy, who tried to be as loud as they possibly could. Goyle ended up in the Hospital Wing with a broken arm, and severely bruised ribs. No-one knew anything about it.

Katie Bell left Hogwarts that morning. She didn't return.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Avada Kedavra."

The green light struck the dummy, but only caused it to fall backwards.

"Damn." Harry said quietly.

He could only manage a few attempts a day before the warning signs started to tell him he was draining his magical reserves. He was able to have more attempts the more he tried, but he was still yet to get it working properly.

"Don't beat yourself up, Harry." Ron told him from the side. "That's one of the few spells I _don't_ want you to teach me."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather be able to kill Voldemort off with a single spell than get in a duel with him." He shook his head. "You should have seen Dumbledore duel him, Ron. All of the spells we usually cast, they both blocked them as if they weren't there. They had to use complicated charms and wards in an effort to get an attack through, and you know they take much longer to cast. They'd stop what they were doing to deflect or cast a curse, and then continue with their spell as if nothing happened.

"No, I really don't want to end up in a duel with him if I can help it."

"You've changed, Harry." Ginny said softly from the sidelines. "Until this year you wouldn't have dreamt of using an Unforgivable."

Harry looked away, and shrugged, having no intention of correcting her. He gazed into nothingness for a while before he replied in a tone which was just as quiet. "I've learnt some people are worth killing for."

No-one answered. Hermione broke the short silence that resulted. "Do you realise that if it wasn't for what Aravenne said about Dark Magic, we wouldn't be using most of the spells we cast?"

"Good thing too, or else we'd have been in serious trouble." Ron pointed out.

"I know, I know," Harry added in mock exhaustion, "I've got myself into even more messes than usual."

"Damn right." Ron told him. "And that's after you promised to try not to, remember?"

Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard them reply, almost to herself. "I just hope Aravenne is right."

Silence.

"Thank you for that Hermione." Harry said at last. "That really makes me feel good."

"Harry, you're not Dark. That much is obvious to anyone." Ginny said firmly.

"Not yet, but isn't the whole thing about 'Dark spells' that they start to twist you, and make you want to cast them more and more? At the rate I've been going, a couple of years would you say?" Harry smiled, breaking the mood. "So, if I try and turn into the next Dark Lord, after dealing with Voldemort, I ask you now, to curse me in the back – just don't use a 'Dark spell' – or else I guess you could poison my…" He paused. "What would you say a Dark Lord's favourite food is?"

"Very funny Harry." Ron glared at him.

Harry felt someone's jinx hit him as he turned to look at Ron, but when he turned around it was impossible to tell who had cast it. He felt his face tauten, and unconsciously looked towards his nose. It was growing longer.

"Sorry Hermione," he said in an exasperated tone, "we're the only ones who'll get the reference."

As Hermione protested her innocence, Ginny smirked beside her.

"But seriously," Harry continued, "why isn't the Reductor curse considered Dark? I mean, you can do serious damage with that. And if that's Dark, then I think we're all doomed." He pointed his wand at his face. "Finite Incantatem."

Harry stowed his wand, and picked up one of the Abramites the room had provided.

Thankfully they had appeared fully charged, although, interestingly, they only seemed to be able to perform the spells their owner knew. Ron had attempted to perform the bone-shattering curse, Quassossis, which he had never quite got to grips with, and when Harry tried to show Ron how to do it with Ron's Abramite, he couldn't.

"Okay, Ron, let's have another go before Hermione persuades me I'm going to be darker than dark this time next year. You're first. Same as before: three of us against you, but only fight one at a time, and we can only use spells to capture; you can use anything, if you're willing to risk it."

Hermione made no reply.

Once the numbness caused by the aftermath of the attack had worn off, Ron had asked Harry if they could practice duelling. Harry actually wished he had thought of it first, so the two of them came up with different scenarios. After all: what was the point of a formal duel in a war? Ginny and Hermione both joined them at times, like this afternoon. The scenario they were using at the moment was Ron's, and it worked well.

The Room of Requirement had taken the form of part of the castle – none of them felt up to the task of imagining large zones like Aravenne had managed. They would have to slow down the duels in time to complete their Easter assignments, and stop altogether when school recommenced; unfortunately: because Harry found he was enjoying it immensely. It was an excellent way to spend an otherwise dull morning. He was sure some of the other Gryffindors wondered where on earth they went, and why they slumped down in chairs, exhausted, when they returned.

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione went to different sectors of the floor of the castle they were using. Ron would enter from where the main staircases were.

Harry started working on one of the basic wards they had touched upon in the Advanced Defence class; you had to be ready for anything, and the more advanced ones took much longer to set-up. As he finished the ward and turned, keeping his eyes peeled for anything, he could hear Ron fighting Ginny, so he relaxed. Even if they came in to view, he wouldn't join in until Ginny was defeated. At the moment, the defenders didn't move around the castle unless in a fight; as they got used to it, Ron and Harry planned to change that. Harry even had the DA in the back of his mind.

Ginny was right, he had changed. Not in the way she suggested, but he just felt… happier. When was the last time he had been able to joke about killing Voldemort? Had he ever? A few weeks ago, Hermione's comments about Aravenne and magic would have worried him; now? He felt more confident in what he was doing; it was as simple as that. He didn't dismiss Hermione's thought, he just trusted himself to deal with it if it ever happened.

"Hah!" Ron's voice sounded, showing that he had won the first duel. Harry broke out from his musing.

Like the other two entry spots, the hall was bare, so there was no easy cover that he could barricade with spells, and thus gain a huge advantage. He glanced behind him. Just because there was a ward there didn't make him completely safe, but it would help against non-verbal spells.

The waiting was the hard bit; no matter how hard you try, you can't make it go faster. A loud – THUNK! – sounded from elsewhere on the floor. Then there was silence. Harry waited. Ron rounded the corner.

"Stupefy. Impedimenta. Tenaccidus."

Ron shielded himself for the first spell, sidestepped the second – sending one of his own back towards Harry as he did so – and used the Effringo spell to disperse the glue spell.

Harry found himself grinning: he had caught Ron out with that last time – he had cast a shield. When he wanted to be, Ron was a quick learner, or possibly just when he was interested in it.

As Harry expected, Ron sent a few vastly different types of aggressive spells. He shielded the Pulmelido curse with the Bullatueor shield, and, like Ron, used Effringo to disperse the area effect spell that followed. What Harry didn't expect, was what happened next.

Ron had ducked behind a suit of armour to take cover for a moment. When he emerged he sent some of the spells that reached the opponent more quickly: simply because they used less magic. Tickling jinxes, charms that caused boils, even Alohomora, which Harry didn't recognise until too late, and had already cast a shield for. As Harry was about to use Ron's pause to send some spells in return, he found himself diving out of the way of an iron spear, which had been banished towards him.

Harry got to one knee and started his incantation at the same time Ron did. Ron was practically shouting.

"Vape-"

"Ava-"

As he heard the start of the spell, Harry got to his feet, to allow him to throw himself to the side; it was almost reflex. As he pushed off, he heard Ron's spell finish.

"D- Stupefy!"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"You sneaky little…" Harry began, in wry admiration. "I should have known you'd never use that."

"Who was the last person who beat you in a duel, Harry?" Ron smirked, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

Harry couldn't resist it. "You mean you think you're ready to take us all on at once?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

They were glad for the duels for another reason – well, two reasons if you counted the Portraits' fascination with Harry, and where he had been on the night of the most recent attacks. All through the castle was tension; even Peeves seemed subdued. Being able to get away from that was a godsend. Every morning, there was a nervous wait for the paper, and every morning, the stress was doubled, as no visible strikes had taken place. Although the paper _did_ claim that the Ministry had prevented an attempt to break the wards around Hogwarts staged in response to Professor Dumbledore's defence of Ollivander. In fact, they seemed to claim it every other day.

There was barely a student in the school, apart from children of Death Eaters, who weren't worried that maybe tomorrow Voldemort would attack, or maybe it would end up being their family who died, like Katie Bell's father had, or like any of the other Hogwarts' students who had suffered. Or maybe he really would attack Hogwarts itself, as the Daily Prophet kept suggesting he was trying to do, out of anger at Dumbledore's interference.

According to the Prophet, things were so bad that Hogwarts' Board of Governors were talking to Dumbledore every night, about closing the school down early this year, in order to get the students away from the 'imminent' attack. Harry wondered whether Dumbledore or the Governors knew about the meetings.

"The longer this goes on, the less I think I can stand this." Ron muttered.

"You mean the waiting?" Harry asked.

"No, them." Ron twitched his head in the direction of the Great Hall. "It's like a bloody… I don't know… It's like a bloody _morgue_."

"The longer the waiting goes on, the worse it's going to get." Hermione said quietly.

"You lot are doing an excellent imitation of them." Ginny chimed in. "Come on Ron, is it so bad you're going to do without food?"

Harry grinned, and then shrugged. "Come on, we might as well find out that there's another day without anything happening except for these mythical battles at Hogwarts. I can't believe people are getting more worked up when he's _not_ attacking."

They strode casually to the Gryffindor table, the only people who looked comfortable, and, ironically, because of the Prophecy, they were probably the people along the student tables with the most reason not to be.

Two owls were waiting for them impatiently. Hermione's Daily Prophet, and a school owl carrying a note. Harry opened it as they sat down. It was from Hagrid.

_Harry, got something to show you. Come round sometime this afternoon, I'm off to see Grawp now._

_Hagrid._

"What do you think he's got this time?" Ron said, sounding a little nervous.

"Maybe he's started interbreeding again." Harry suggested with a crooked smile.

"Do you think it might be Flobberworms, and Nifflers?" Ginny said in mock innocence.

"If only…" Ron told her. "If only. Although that would be weird, come to think of it. Anything Hermione?"

She looked up from the page she'd been skimming. "No, just some more articles that would make the Quibbler jealous, about an imminent attack here."

"The Quibbler usually has more truth in it than the Prophet anyway." Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe, but more people believe the Prophet."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"'Lo there Harry!" Hagrid called out from a copse to the side of his hut.

As Hagrid strode to meet him, Harry noticed some strange monkey-like creatures perched in the trees. Well, sort of monkey-like creatures: they had no fur, just a scaly green skin, and in the middle of their foreheads was a large boil.

"Clabberts!" Hagrid called, pointing to the strange creatures.

"Hi Hagrid. What was the note about?" Harry asked.

"Ah, yea', I thought I'd bette' tell yeh. I got those Clabberts las' nigh', and as I was settlin' them in an' all, I foun'… Well, yeh bette' come inside I think."

Nonplussed, Harry followed him inside, ducking past some dead ferrets which were hanging from the ceiling. Hagrid moved to the side almost at once.

"Hedwig!" Harry breathed.

The snowy owl was in almost the same unconscious state she had been in when she delivered the note all those weeks ago. Remembering that, Harry stopped his hands which had been descending to stroke her. He turned to look at Hagrid.

"How is she?"

Hagrid looked reluctant, but in the end replied. "I won' lie teh yeh Harry. She's… Well, she's in pretty bad shape. I dunno how she'd manage' teh hunt to keep 'erself alive, I mean, well, her lef' leg's weak, tho I don' think it's broken, an' her wings, they're bruised and bat'ered so much they must've hurt ev'ry time she used 'em."

Harry smiled. "When Hedwig wants to do something, she never gives up."

"Stubb'en as 'er owner, eh Harry?"

Harry smiled again, and then returned his attention to Hedwig. "What can I do?"

"Not much teh heal 'er teh be honest. I tell yeh what I'll do. You leave 'er with me, and I'll make sure it all fixes up proper like. Tha' way –" Hagrid broke off.

Hedwig's head moved and then opened an eye.

"Hedwig." Harry said again, in relief. Hagrid had a big grin plastered over his face.

The owl moved her neck to see who had spoken. With an exhausted scream, she started beating her wings, although she hadn't strength enough to get into the air.

"Hagrid – what?" Harry asked in concern.

"Take a couple steps back there Harry. Okay girl, it's okay. It's jus' me and Harry." As Harry took a couple of steps backwards, Hedwig seemed to quieten, but as Hagrid approached she became anxious once more.

Hagrid signalled for Harry to stay back, and Harry retreated another couple of steps in alarm. _What had happened to Hedwig?_

Hagrid was talking soothingly to the owl with what seemed to Harry nonsense words, but it looked like they worked. Keeping his movements smooth, Hagrid reached for a bowl.

"Easier fer 'er to eat this way." He said quietly in explanation. "Go outside, I'll be with yeh in a secon'."

With a last look at Hedwig, Harry left the hut. Hagrid followed soon after.

"Why is-" Harry began, and then stopped at Hagrid's worried face.

"I thin' yeh better tell me 'zactly what 'appened, Harry."

Harry hesitated, even with his worry for Hedwig, he remembered Hagrid might not know about the notes. How much should he say?

"Well," Harry began, "she was sent to deliver something to me, only she was all strange. I mean, she tapped on the window in the middle of the night, and then, well she moved as if she wasn't used to moving, if you know what I mean. Snape said he thinks she was possessed."

"Possess'd?" Hagrid said angrily. "Some 'n' possess'd an owl? Well there's the problem Harry. Now she's a clever bir' an all, but owl brains just aren' meant teh hold everythin' tha's in a human's brain. It- It must've overloaded the poor girl's senses. She prob'ly 'as'n got a clue who she is e'en. 'N' 'cos you were the first one to see 'er, she prob'ly think's yeh're to blame."

Harry almost took a step backwards. He had very rarely seen Hagrid annoyed, let alone angry.

"Now see 'ere Harry. If'n you find who did this, you let me know now, okay?"

"I… ah… yeah." Harry said, a little shaken by a Hagrid in full fury. This must have been what Umbridge and her goons had faced when they tried to arrest the half-giant last year.

Although he was still simmering, Hagrid calmed down enough to say to Harry: "You jus' leave 'er teh me Harry 'n' I'll see what I can do. There's nothin' yeh can do now, yeh'd just confuse the poor thing." He gestured to the castle. "You head up in teh the castle, 'n' I'll let yeh know."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Avada Kedavra." It was almost a snarl rather than an incantation.

The dummy exploded.

Ron and Ginny both stayed silent, as though unsure whether to congratulate Harry, or not.

"Maybe Aravenne's wrong," Harry said bitterly, "maybe you do have to be angry to cast that."

"Or maybe it's just that because you're angry, you wanted it to work more." Ron pointed out.

Harry grunted in disgust. Another target dummy appeared.

"What happened at Hagrid's, Harry?" Ginny asked as a second dummy exploded.

Harry didn't answer immediately, but rather paused to check whether he felt able to continue with the Unforgivable or not. A third dummy appeared.

"Hagrid found Hedwig." Harry said abruptly

"And why is that a bad thing?" Ron asked.

"It's a bad thing, _Ron_, because…" Harry took a breath, and recollected himself, speaking more quietly. "You remember Snape thought she'd been possessed?"

"Yeah…"

"Well it looks like he was right. Hagrid said that it caused her brain to be… That as a result, she has no idea who she is, who we are, anything. She thought I was going to attack her. Moody said you should never trust informants, especially if you didn't even know who they were. Well, he was right, wasn't he?"

"You mean you don't think whoever writes-"

Harry cut across him. "Avada Kedavra."

"You don't think they're trying to help us?" Ron continued doubtfully.

"You're telling me that they're going to- to do _that_ to my owl, and yet still try to help me – us?" Harry said scornfully, looking at the remnants of the dummy.

"What if they didn't know this would happen?" Ginny asked quietly.

Harry bit back his retort. The one person among his friends who understood possession was Ginny.

"If they knew how to possess someone, or some animal, then surely they'd have to know about this." Harry was speaking deliberately, in an effort to cap his temper.

"What if it's a student that's been sending the notes?" Ron suggested. "We know Snape must have shown Malfoy about possession after that stunt in your duel, maybe he showed a whole bunch of them?"

"If you try to tell me Malfoy is behind the notes, Ron, I'll _know_ you're off your nut."

"Hardly." Ron answered in disgust.

"It might have been another Slytherin though, Harry." Ginny suggested. "Maybe a seventh year who was friends with Caiaphas Appleby."

"They're still going to know, though, aren't they? Say Snape did teach them – do you really think he wouldn't tell them that possession harms the animals that are possessed? Or at least animals like owls. Otherwise they might practice on their own post owls."

A fourth target appeared.

"Would Slytherins really care th-" Ron began.

Of course they would." Harry cut across him, and then pointed his wand at the dummy. "Avada Kedavra!" The dummy flew backwards, but unlike the others, didn't explode. "Damn." He muttered, before picking up the unfinished thought. "How could their owls find anyone if they'd been given amnesia?"

Harry blinked. For a second he had felt a little faint. It must have shown, for out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron make a quickly aborted move toward him. He cursed himself internally, and another target appeared.

"How do they find them anyway?" Ron asked, shrugging.

Rather than answering, Harry pointed his wand at the target once more, but felt Ginny's smaller hand push his down. He glanced up to see concern on her face.

"No more, Harry." She said in a quiet, but firm voice, as she shook her head.

Harry simmered there for seconds, but eventually turned, sighing. "It's just- I feel betrayed. It's silly, I know, I mean I've never even met whoever's sending these notes, I don't know their name, I don't even know whether they're a he or a she. They've only sent, what, three of them anyway. Why should I have been sure they were to help us?"

"They might still be helping us, Harry." Ginny said, trying to take over from the absent Hermione as the quiet voice of reason. "After all, the notes have been useful, haven't they?"

"Doesn't mean anything though, Ginny." Ron replied, shaking his head. "If they were going to try and fool us, they'd have to earn our trust first. So they'd give some things away, in order to betray when it matters most."

"Exactly." Harry said, glad for the support. "After all – isn't that supposedly what Snape does? Well, I guess he does it one way or the other, no matter which side he's on."

He raised his wand again, and turned back to the dummy.

"Rejicia."

The dummy exploded.

"Then why do something that hurts Hedwig?" Ginny asked. "Why do something that makes you doubt them?"

"You're sounding like Hermione." Ron grinned.

"I just think it's more likely that they didn't know this would happen, or else it happened because they did it wrongly. It's not as if Hagrid is going to know a lot about possession, is it?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The tension reached near breaking point two days before classes resumed.

The Ministry was invaded. Not attacked, but invaded. No-one reported seeing any intruders, and there were no casualties, nor was anything taken. It would not have made the news at all, if it wasn't for yet another leak in the Ministry. Assuming it wasn't completely made up, of course, or that there wasn't a Death Eater in the Prophet staff.

Completely unverified, the Prophet detailed a list of demands sent by 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', in order for the fighting to end. The fact that it remained unverified, however, didn't prevent the Prophet from relating some of the demands:

Absolute segregation from the Muggle world. The only people who could have contact would be a team of witches and wizards operating from the Ministry, which would be hand picked by Lord Voldemort.

The requirement of being Pureblood to be in all bar the most menial of positions.

The Minister of Magic, and Heads of all departments were to be chosen by Lord Voldemort, all other staff would be chosen by these Heads.

Muggleborn witches or wizards would be terminated upon discovery. Existing Muggleborns at the time of agreement to the terms would have one week to leave the country before they too were terminated. 'Terminated', Harry noticed, not murdered.

Any and all Werewolves would be required to surrender 'itself' to 'Ministry' control for the week around the full moon. Any Werewolf that failed to commit 'itself' would be terminated.

The list went on, and on, with a number of additional 'terminations'.

A single threat was – supposedly – left with the demands, saying that until they were accepted; no event, however public; or witch or wizard, even if they were surrounded by Muggles, would be safe. Harry imagined that if this were indeed true, it would have been offered as a 'choice' not a threat.

In return, the deaths would stop – with the exception of the 'terminations' of course.

Harry couldn't believe that anyone would seriously accept these laws, let alone believe Voldemort would even stop there, but to his horror, he heard many students actually discussing the idea of capitulating. Not just that, but many DA members reported some people actually saying that it made sense to accept the terms, and try to kill Voldemort – or rather You-Know-Who – during the resultant peace time.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The storm finally broke the very next day, before classes resumed. The first Harry or Ron were aware of it was when they opened the doors to the Great Hall, and were met by absolute silence apart from the sounds of owls leaving. With a glance, they hurried towards the Gryffindor table, and Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione was as stunned as the rest of the school and merely looked up as they arrived. Ginny, who was reading the Prophet, was pale.

Ron was the first to read the headline upside down. "Oh hell." He said softly.

As if the hall had been waiting for a sound to be made, whispering began to break out at the tables.

_**Quidditch Match Becomes Arena of Terror.**_

**You-Know-Who decimates Puddlemere United and Pride of Portree.**

_It looked like being the game which would decide the season, _writes Rita Skeeter, _instead, it may well be the game that brings an end to the sport in our fair nation. A bumper crowd had gathered to see the match, which was to see league leaders Puddlemere United blood their young reserve Keeper after the first choice Keeper, Andrew Benn, had been given leave on compassionate grounds. Ironically this absence was granted after his family had recently suffered a loss at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It should have been the greatest day of Oliver Wood's life, and it also promised to be second placed Portree's best chance to overhaul the points gap. Were the young keeper to keep them at bay, he would have written himself into the annals of history of the oldest club in the country._

_Thirty minutes into the game, the first Death Eater appeared. Mere seconds later, You-Know-Who himself apparated into the middle of the pitch, setting up wards to prevent witches or wizards from leaving as he did so. The first to be attacked was the young debutant, who likely died before he realised what was happening. What followed was a slaughter not seen since the era of Grindelwald. Only two of the players – the Seeker on either side – survived. Pride of Portree Keeper, Meaghen McCormack was amongst the dead, as was her mother: famous former Chaser Catriona. Son, Kirley McCormack, had been unable to attend thanks to commitments as the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters, otherwise he too would surely have perished. The total death toll exceeded the hundred, and would have been greater, had You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters not left once any resistance had been crushed. Only four of the Aurors assigned to safeguard the match survived, with grievous injuries._

_There can be no doubt that this was a message. Agree to You-Know-Who's terms, or this will continue._

Harry couldn't bring himself to read anymore. He simply looked at the three others mutely.


	34. Preparations

**Chapter 34: Preparations**

The bad news continued later that night, once Harry and Professor Dumbledore had attempted to find any loopholes in the rules that governed Harry's Sanctuary, and then had practiced the unique style of duelling.

"I think that is enough for the night, Harry." Dumbledore said eventually. "Please, take a seat."

There was something in Dumbledore's tone which warned Harry that he would not like to hear what would be said. Dumbledore lowered himself onto a seat himself.

"I am sure you have read about the attack which occurred late yesterday evening. What hasn't been reported is that whilst the aftermath was being dealt with by the Ministry, Tom and his Death Eaters not only attacked, but exterminated all living beings in a small Welsh Village. To the best of our knowledge, not a single witch, wizard, or squib inhabited a house there."

"A Muggle village?" Harry asked in horror. "But why?"

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "It was not merely attacked, Harry. The structures in the village are still intact, and powerful wards have been erected around it. There is a large force of Death Eaters there permanently. They have two goals that I can see: to hold the village; and to search the surrounding area."

"To sea- You mean?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Merely two nights ago, I was in the same village. I was examining a number of wards, and attempting to delicately access them in an effort to pass through them without destroying them. Tonight I shall return in order to set my own wards, and attempt to reinforce some of Salazar's."

"So you have found it then?"

"Yes, I have found the place that Salazar seems to have retreated to after he left Hogwarts, although whether the Scrivenings ever existed is still debatable. After I was given the necessary information to narrow down the area to be searched, it was relatively simple to find the protective wards. Their strength is impressive, and it is that which led me to them; however, they are also brittle, so my first tasks were to reinforce them, and limit the exudation of magic, rather than circumvent them."

Dumbledore was quiet for a few seconds, and as Harry was about to ask why exactly he was strengthening the wards, he stood up, and walked to a shelf. Out of thin air he drew a pendant. Walking back, he offered it to Harry.

"Please, take this."

Harry stared at it, before looking back up questioningly.

"This is a Portkey. It shall take you as close to the entrance as I can safely send you. It also contains charms which shall destroy the wards. Once there, you need merely follow the sheer cliff behind the village to the right." He offered a small smile, "Fawkes, will activate it."

Harry looked back at the pendant. A stationary golden Phoenix was in flight on a silver background. With a glance at the Headmaster to check, he placed it over his head, and around his neck. It vanished.

"If you are in need of it, it shall reappear."

"But why?" Harry began.

"If the worst should happen, and I am unable to continue the search, it is vital that someone else can retrieve whatever information Salazar Slytherin may have stored, before Tom Riddle can."

"But why me?" Harry asked a little nervously. "Why not Professor McGonagall, or Sn- Professor Snape, or else someone else in the Order?"

"For the simple reason that it is beneficial to keep this information known by the fewer people the better. The knowledge would place Severus in far too dangerous a position, and apart from the two of us, he has the most knowledge of this hunt in the Order. The second reason is possibly even more vital, for you are the only one who is able to speak Parseltongue."

Harry took a deep breath. "So I can't tell Ron, Ginny, or Hermione?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Not yet, Harry, no."

"Okay." Harry said, exhaling and nodding himself, before stopping. "Not yet?" He queried.

"Assuming the worst, the time would likely come when it would be necessary to inform your friends. This is not something that should be attempted on one's own. Even were I to have your knowledge of Parseltongue, I would not attempt to clandestinely access the dwelling of one of the four founders of Hogwarts – let alone the dwelling of the most suspicious of them – without the help of at least one other. One merely has to examine the structure and contents of the castle and grounds in order to glimpse some of their power."

"But the four of us, rather than any other Order members?" Harry asked, with a thrill of pride.

"If the worst does indeed happen, then I leave the decision of how to proceed up to you Harry. However, I have the greatest of confidence in the four of you, should you attempt the task yourselves."

If the worst should happen, chances were the Order would fall apart. That was what Remus had virtually said earlier in the school year, when asking him to trust Dumbledore about Snape. Harry wondered if that had any bearing upon Dumbledore's decision. Perhaps he was certain that the four of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would stay a cohesive unit no matter what.

"Once I have successfully dealt with Slytherin's wards, I shall provide you with charms which will enable you to pass through them, rather than destroy them."

"When are we going to go?" Harry asked.

"Given the added difficulty in accessing the area, I would imagine it will take rather longer than I had hoped in order to successfully bypass the wards. Regardless, I am loath to leave Hogwarts without my protection whilst students are present. Unless circumstances change, therefore, it is unlikely to be in the next fortnight. Given that the searching being undergone by Tom's Death Eaters seems to have no certain goal, I am confident that my added wards will prevent them from stumbling upon it, even should we be forced to wait as long as until the end of school to make the attempt."

"How did they know where to go, though?" Harry asked; even were there a leak in the Order, they shouldn't have known.

"My most likely guess at this point in time, is that Peter Pettigrew discovered something in the Chamber that we had missed. Another possibility is that they have discovered a document with enough details to narrow the area down to a searchable size – as I have been able to. Given that the village is the only habitation for miles, it would obviously be easier to kill everyone inside it, and use it as a base, than attempt to search as widely as they would have to in secret. Tom would consider it an added bonus that we would have to come up with a plausible reason for the village's destruction."

Harry nodded. He wished he and Dumbledore could be going there tomorrow. He hated having to wait.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall began, "if you would please stay behind a moment. I need a couple of words about Gryffindor's Quidditch season."

Ron looked worried. "Stay here with me;" he hissed to Harry, "I hope this isn't what I think it is."

The class had been flat. Even McGonagall seemed unable to hide the mood that hung over the school like a pall of despair. Normally she would have been far more demanding of her students, and more rewarding of successes, but not today. Harry wasn't particularly surprised: with the amount of people that were leaning towards capitulation to Voldemort – usually because it meant that they would survive – and the amount of rumours about attacks levelled at Hogwarts, no-one could relax.

Harry couldn't help but wonder whether the people who were so keen on surrendering had even considered some of Voldemort's demands. Why exactly did they think Voldemort wanted to gather all the werewolves to him when the full moon was in the night sky? If they thought that it was in an effort to prevent lycanthropy from spreading, then perhaps it was no longer surprising that they had believed whatever the Prophet fed them. If they had grasped the likely implications of the demand, who did they think would suffer? With the Muggleborns already disposed of, did they honestly think it was only Muggles who would have to worry?

The fact that Harry stayed on with Ron in order to hear whatever McGonagall had to say regarding Quidditch provoked a slight smile from Gryffindor's Head of House. "I did say that the captain could ask for assistance in running the Quidditch team." She allowed.

"I am afraid, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, that after taking into consideration the losses that the school has suffered directly, and indirectly, as a result of recent attacks in the world outside, in particular in large events, Professor Dumbledore, myself, and the other Heads of Houses, have decided that it would be better not to hold the last Quidditch game of the season." Ron looked stricken; Harry merely felt shock. "Professor Dumbledore will inform the rest of the school tomorrow, but we thought it fairest to notify both the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff captains first."

"You can't!" Ron burst out.

McGonagall frowned. "I can assure you, Mr Weasley, that we can. Not only must we take into account the students who have suffered as a result of the attacks at the Quidditch match, but we must take into account the recent threats levelled at the school."

"You don't believe the Daily Prophet?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I may not, Mr Potter, but the Board of Governors do." McGonagall looked and sounded both frayed and irritated.

"No!" Ron interrupted before she could say further. "I didn't mean it like that. I understand about the attacks and all, but I just don't think it would be a good idea."

Harry raised his eyebrows pointedly, a gesture neither of them failed to notice.

"Well, yeah, I _would _be really disappointed if it happened – but that still isn't what I meant."

"I am listening, Mr Weasley." McGonagall said, sitting down in the chair behind her desk and reaching for some homework in need of correction, signalling that whatever she had said, the interview was virtually over.

"Professor, have you looked around the school ever since the attack at Diagon Alley at the end of last term? The only people who aren't scared stiff are the Slytherins whose parents are Death Eaters. Everyone thinks that they and their friends and family are going to be the next ones to be attacked, and it's getting worse virtually every day. Morale is rubbish." Ron said urgently.

"Naturally people are worried," McGonagall replied guardedly, "but I am afraid I fail to see how this affects Quidditch."

"The whole school watches the Quidditch matches," Ron told her, "even if it isn't between their houses. It's almost a school tradition."

McGonagall stayed silent, but her expression plainly showed that she had heard nothing likely to change her point of view yet.

"And it's just," Ron glanced at Harry, looking for help before continuing, "Quidditch helps people forget about what's going on elsewhere, it kind of raises spirits, gives people a chance to get away from whatever happens."

"Assuming you win." Professor McGonagall pointed out dryly.

"But at least if you're disappointed, you're disappointed about something else, and you've had at least the length of a Quidditch match where you haven't been worrying about You-Know-Who." Ron replied, in as persuasive a voice as he could muster.

"Professor?" Harry asked, now that he knew what Ron was trying to say. "When was the last time someone had points taken off for a prank? Hardly anyone even laughs at the moment, especially with everything the Prophet is claiming about Voldemort and what he's doing."

McGonagall winced at Voldemort's name, and then frowned. "I will inform the Headmaster, and other Heads of Houses of your concerns."

"Um… Professor," Harry added suddenly, a thought coming to him, "what the Muggles usually do in sport if people have died in a tragedy, or sportsmen die, or something similar, is hold a minute's silence in order to show their respect for the dead, and support for their families."

McGonagall looked at Harry thoughtfully for a few seconds. "As I have said, I shall relay your thoughts. I shall let you know what has been decided."

"That silence thing is a good idea, Harry." Ron said pensively, as they left the Transfiguration room. "Using a Muggle idea would kind of be a way of showing You-Know-Who we won't stop fighting, too."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I am impressed." Aravenne started, looking around at the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class. "Very impressed. At the start of this year, when I drew out the prospective course for this class to follow, I did not believe we would go any further than the basics of examining, and defeating wards. However, we have finished that with eight weeks left. The work we will do from now until the end of term, shall not, as a result, be tested."

The sighs of relief, and slight buzz of sound that provoked – Ron gave a small punch of the air – soon quietened, as the serious look on their Professor's face remained.

"That work, however, you shall nevertheless want to apply all your ability and intelligence towards." He flicked his wand behind him towards the board, without even looking, and continued to speak as the words appeared. "_Comperio Apperum_, and _Comperio Portus_, then, two of the most vital spells you will learn. These are the two most basic ways to check if wards have been created which prevent apparition, or the use of Portkeys."

"All of you, I believe, are able to apparate, even if some are still too young to hold a license, and some of you may be able to create Portkeys, and only Ministry employees are licensed to do that. To be frank, I don't care if you haven't got licenses, if you can do it and you need to escape, then you use it."

Harry glanced at Ron. Hermione remained arguably the only one able to create a Portkey on demand, although he and Ron were part of a slowly growing minority who had success _some_ of the time. They still had their accidents from time to time, of course. Ron's still exploded every now and then, and Harry's once had a curious splinching-like effect, where half the boot he was turning into a Portkey disappeared, leaving the other half behind in his hand. On the bright side, the half which _did_ move went exactly where he had meant it to. According to Professor Flitwick, that was impossible, and, to Ron's great amusement, Hermione had spent the following afternoon in the library trying to work out how on earth Harry had done it.

"Unfortunately," Aravenne continued, "sometimes that is not viable. The first thing done by an attacking force – whether it is Death Eaters, or Aurors, or another independent group – is to place wards down in order to prevent the use of these magicks. That is where these two spells come in."

"But you can tell if there are wards up when you start to Apparate, can't you sir?" Ernie Macmillan asked. "If you try and Apparate in Hogwarts, there's a- a- a _blocking_ feeling, isn't there?"

"While it is true that some Apparition wards do that, Mr Macmillan, not all of them do. There are certain wards that give you no warning until you complete your apparition." Harry winced in memory. "And if these come into effect, then not only do you not move, but you also endure great pain. Always remember that wards can be combined. As the goal in an attack is generally capture, torture, or death of the victims, there is a high probability that these wards have the additional goal of stunning, or inflicting pain upon people they thwart. Far safer to use spells to check, rather than your body, as I'm sure you will agree.

"So, if we discover these wards in effect, what do we do?" Aravenne asked.

"Run?" Dean suggested, provoking laughter.

"And if additional wards prevent escape that way, Mr Thomas?"

The absolute seriousness in his voice quelled the levity instantaneously. Aravenne allowed the silence to stretch, and the point sink in.

"All of you are of an ability to defuse the wards yourselves." He told them, almost gently.

"Do you honestly think sixth years can defeat wards set by Aurors?" Malfoy asked, with just a hint of derision.

"That's a first," Ron muttered. "Malfoy claiming he can't do something."

"That will do, Mr Weasley," Professor Aravenne said sharply, causing Ron to go red. "I see no reason why not, Mr Malfoy. Members of this class have already proven they could bring down wards of my own making, and whilst Apparition and Portkey wards may be more complicated, the ward breaker has one major advantage. The ward does not need to be countered; to escape this kind of ward, merely create a hole in it, and you can apparate through."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

Harry looked around from the unfamiliar position of the ground in the Quidditch stadium. As was natural, his first instinct was to glance towards the Gryffindor stands, where the Gryffindors stood as one, looking blankly ahead, as though their thoughts were elsewhere – apart from the few who were weeping quietly. Jimmy Peakes was looking at his feet. His younger brother – only six years old – and his father had been caught in the carnage of the Puddlemere versus Portree game. Harry wondered how many of the other Gryffindors had, like him, been thinking of Oliver Wood, and Katie Bell for most of the morning. No-one, even Katie's friends, had heard the slightest news of her. To all intents and purposes, it seemed she, her mother, and her sister had vanished.

The Ravenclaws, like the Gryffindors, respected the silence impeccably – Luna silencing the lion on top of her head – as did the Hufflepuffs. The Slytherins surprised Harry, however, for a relatively large number not only stayed silent, but also seemed to take part in it. Standing prominently amongst them was Snape, looking around like a hawk. It was obviously thanks to him that the surly faces in the crowd remained mute.

The whistle blew a second time.

Harry and the rest of the students who had strong links to the Muggle world applauded, joined by much of the crowd as they realised what was happening.

Ron's usual shout as they kicked off the ground never materialised. Instead, his bellow took on a different bent. "Let's put on a show lads!"

Harry caught himself staring at Ron for a couple of seconds, and then, with a grin, shot high into the air, above the heads of all the rest of the players. Unlike the other two Houses, the Hufflepuff Seeker, Joshua Fitzgibbons, seemed perfectly willing to look for the Snitch on his own. Harry grinned in surprise, either Joshua was confident in his own ability, or else he and Zacharias Smith had decided that, seeing as Harry had never _not_ caught the Snitch while being trailed by the opposition, he should look on his own. Either way, it would be interesting, for he had almost forgotten what it felt like not to be marked. He allowed himself a few seconds luxuriating in the feel of the air rushing past his face in a warm, cloudless day, before setting off himself.

Jerome Bulley, as usual, was doing the commentary, and his voice boomed out from below. "And it's Ginny Weasley passing to the surprising addition to the Gryffindor line-up, Dean Thomas, who has taken the place of Katie Bell. I don't think anyone expected to see Thomas in a Quidditch match ever again, let alone the very next match, and in a position not his own. Talk about Gryffindor courage by his captain, Ron Weasley! Seamus Finnegan has taken the remaining Beater's position.

"Some quick passing between Weasley and Thomas, showing that the former Beater indeed has some talent with the Quaffle… A switch to Robins, who finds Thomas for the first chance of the match. He shoots… And it goes agonisingly wide. It's a bright start to the final game of the season. Weasley dodges a Bludger as she chases back to mark Hufflepuff Captain Zacharias Smith."

Fifteen minutes into the game, and Gryffindor were forty points up – all six goals having been scored by Ginny, but only thanks to some excellent interchange between Dean and Demelza. Harry grinned as he remembered how worried Ron had been that if Ginny and Dean were to split up, they wouldn't function on the pitch. So far, so good.

It had, without a doubt, been the cleanest game Harry could ever remember playing in – neither side even attempted to push the boundaries of the laws of the game, let alone break them. That wasn't to say it wasn't physical – a number of powerful hits by Bludgers had caused the crowd to gasp. Harry had taken a glancing blow, and without being immodest, he knew it took a good hit to strike him. The lack of fouls was an interesting experience, for he was used to the two sides fighting tooth and nail. He felt it possibly took away some of the edge, and competitiveness of the match, which was a shame, but it also allowed the players to really showcase their talents. Gryffindor wasn't the only side to have taken Ron's final words to heart, for Hufflepuff quickly got two goals back – both completely unsaveable.

Harry sped off after a glint of gold, only to discover five minutes later that he had been hunting the flash of the sun on a watch, or other jewellery of some kind. Harry wasn't sure which. That was the one big disadvantage to bright sunlight – it was far easier to be fooled. He resumed his circling, listening to the commentary.

"Smith shoots! It beats Weasley but Thomas manages to block the ball before it can pass through the hoop. Fantastic Chaser play! Ron Weasley will no doubt be telling Thomas that that was why he picked him as he shoots past him back into the field of play. Hufflepuff have the ball again."

Harry looked back at the Gryffindor stand, and practically laughed in surprise. There was a ragged cheer being started up, with Dean as the subject. Assuming Gryffindor won, Harry had a feeling Dean was going to be forgiven – by most of the house, anyway, Harry still couldn't forget Ginny's plummet groundwards. He pulled up his broom, and shot across the pitch, still searching for the Snitch that would make the win happen.

"And Hufflepuff have fought back: Gryffindor only ten points ahead now, it's seventy – sixty. It's Weasley – Ron – with the Quaffle, and he looks long for Robins, who catches it, and speeds forward toward the two blockers. Robins merely lets go of the ball before the challenge, and Ginny Weasley catches it as Wilson falls for the neat trick. Weasley exchanges passes with Thomas – the two of them have been working seamlessly so far – and advances on the Keeper. She shapes to shoot, but passes to Thomas at the last second, who virtually flies the Quaffle through the hoop. The Chaser play that's been on show today has been top drawer stuff, from both teams, but it's Gryffindor with their noses in front."

Harry lowered his broom slightly, and shot forwards and downwards, provoking a swell of sound from the whole stadium. He grinned as Bulley reported what everyone had already seen.

"Potter's seen the Snitch! At least, that's what it looks like, and Fitzgibbons certainly thinks so: he's haring towards Potter from the other side of the pitch. Potter of course, is known for his convincing feints, so Fitzgibbons will have to be very wary if Potter turns into a steep dive."

Harry would have laughed – he didn't realise he was _that_ well known for the tricks he used to get away from a marker – but this wasn't a feint, and this required concentration. As Dean passed the Quaffle to Ginny, Harry had spotted the Snitch veer out of the way, immediately. He pulled up from his descent about thirty foot above the ground, and streamlined himself along the broom. The Hufflepuff Seeker might as well have been miles away for Harry was mere yards from it now.

Harry reached forward with his right hand, and, as the wings fluttered against his palm, completed what had possibly been the least dramatic catch he had ever made – and that was including the training sessions against Emily.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"As you can see, there is one ward per person," Aravenne spoke from where the stands usually were in the duelling room, "when I say so, you will all enter the enclosures, and attempt to break the apparition ward. This ward will be stronger than any of the ones you have been faced with so far after the last few lessons, so be warned. I want you to assume you have a young child with you, so the ward needs to be countered fully, rather than temporarily broken. Now, I would like you all to treat this as if it were real; therefore, for example, before you attempt to break the ward, you must first prove that the ward is not only there, but also that it achieves its goal."

Many of the class looked away, embarrassed. To a man (or woman), they had failed to do that last time, which meant that they had all begun to break an ineffectual ward. Harry doubted that Aravenne had really needed to say that, they wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"Any questions? Very well, then begin."

Harry walked forwards, and felt the charge in the air as the ward closed behind him.

"Comperio Apperum," He muttered quietly, and waited for the link between wand and ward to materialise, signifying the enclosed Apparition ward. He glanced around, broke the connection, and then opened his mouth to speak the next incantation. "Aditus-"

Harry paused. Just because he had avoided the trap he had fallen into last time didn't mean there weren't any other pitfalls Aravenne had included. "Comperio Portus."

Another link appeared.

Harry took a step backwards, and stopped to think. The added ward didn't actually make any difference. He still only had to beat one of them – the Apparition ward. A glance to either side showed everyone else lost in their own efforts. Aravenne wanted them to treat this as if it were real. If it were real, then someone was hunting him or, if he had someone else to worry about too, 'them', down. Hermione, to his left, would be stunned, injured, or killed if anyone came across her while she worked. He began work upon a ward of his own.

Finishing, he readied himself once more, and, after a brief pause in case anything else came to him, cast the spell quietly. "Aditus Arcanum."

He allowed the spell extra time to provide a link between him, and the ward he had to break, before continuing. "Ostentatio."

The thing about trying to break any ward, was that once you had bypassed its defences, it was possible for anyone to bring it down with enough time. It was a little like untying a rather large bundle of string which had wound itself into knot after knot after knot. You had to 'untie' each knot, until you had a continuous line of magical energy. Like unravelling the bundle of string, the better you got at it, the easier it was to recognise patterns which you knew how to 'un-knot'. The second trick was somewhat harder, and that was the effort involved to prevent the magical energy from knotting itself once more into its initial pattern, which it was more than happy to do if you lost concentration. Harry found his Occlumency techniques helping a great deal.

He lost himself in concentration.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He was pulled out of his work abruptly, and completely lost his equilibrium. Someone had crossed his ward. He spun around to see Aravenne pointing his wand at him.

"Stupefy."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Very good effort Harry." Aravenne said, smiling. "Had you been able to create your ward over a larger space, indeed, the sort of size you might expect an Apparition ward to allow, you may have succeeded.

"As you all have now discovered, when I asked you to treat this exercise as though it were real life, I meant it. If you are trying to lower a ward, then you are vulnerable. Never forget it."

Many of the Slytherins shot Harry black looks. Blaise Zabini, however, who was the only other student to anticipate the attack, was inscrutable. He seemed to be one of the few Slytherins who hadn't chosen a side yet. Harry hadn't yet decided what was likely to happen when Voldemort demanded his allegiance.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Is the Prophet right?" Harry asked, a little nervously.

Remus paused. Harry thought the face in the mirror looked unsure as to how much to say. Previously it might have annoyed Harry that he wasn't being told everything, but considering he was the only one Dumbledore had entrusted with the Portkey to Salazar's home, he knew it couldn't be that he wasn't trusted.

"To some extent." He paused again. Harry stayed silent patiently, waiting for him to continue. It was what Dumbledore often did, and it worked for him after all. "The Order has prevented a couple of attempts to breach Hogwarts wards. Just small bands of Death Eaters, nothing major, and no major Death Eaters there either. Although there have been nowhere near the amount of attempts that the Prophet has been reporting."

"But?" Harry prompted.

"_But_ the Death Eaters supposedly attempting to breach the wards at Hogwarts had no chance of ever succeeding. They either didn't have the power or skill, and none of them had the experience. Hogwarts wards are exceptionally strong, Albus isn't the only reason Voldemort has never attacked there. In fact, apart from Voldemort himself, and possibly a few of his followers, none of the Death Eaters would be likely to make any inroads even if they were trying for years non-stop."

"So why were they there? I know Voldemort couldn't care less about sending Death Eaters out to die, but he'd only do it if he gained something for it." _And if he was trying to discipline someone, he'd do it personally_.

"Ah, that's another thing the Prophet got wrong – only one Death Eater died, and that was because of a curse from his own side. Most of them escaped, but a few were captured."

"But why?" Harry asked again.

Remus shook his head in disgust. "We have no idea. The best reason we can come up with so far, is that he wants to keep our attention at Hogwarts, so he is planning something elsewhere. Severus, however, knew nothing of any of these attacks, so he can give us no help."

Could Voldemort be trying to keep their attention away from Salazar's Scrivenings? Harry doubted it. He actually knew what they were looking for at Ollivanders, so he must know that the instructions would show them where to go. Could it…

"Could it just be a delaying tactic?" Harry suggested. "Maybe he is worried about us doing something, and wants to gain time to defend against it."

"Not a bad thought." Remus said, nodding.

Could he be trying to keep Dumbledore from going after the Scrivenings for as long as possible, maybe in the hope that his Death Eaters might stumble across the right place? Maybe he didn't know of Dumbledore's reluctance to leave Hogwarts – relatively – unprotected. Voldemort would never think of putting the lives of hundreds of children above searching for power, after all. All he'd need was a spy in the Order, and he could get them running in circles for quite a while.

"Of course, maybe Snape does know what's going on, but doesn't want to help us, and he's helping destroy the wards from the inside." Harry said darkly. Glimpsing Moony's expression he continued hastily. "Okay, okay. I know. Dumbledore trusts Snape to be working on our side, and I should trust Dumbledore. Hang on. What if he hasn't decided which side he's on yet?"

"Then we had better try not to antagonise him… Wouldn't you agree?"

"Nah, if I started acting nice to him, he'd think I was planning something. There's no point." Harry told Remus, smirking. "But seriously, did the Ministry really find out about these pointless attempts to lower Hogwarts wards by an informant?"

Remus read the scepticism on Harry's face, and shook his head ruefully. "The Ministry did inform Albus of one of these attempts, yes. Believe it or not, Rufus Scrimgeour has managed to get some semblance of organisation going, and, seeing as they have virtually had to build the Ministry's departments back up from scratch, it's a little more watertight than before. It's certainly better equipped to fight."

"Not that watertight if those demands are true, and got leaked like the Prophet said, is it?"

Moony shook his head. "Well, we don't think that was leaked from the Ministry. We think the 'leak' was actually a Death Eater _pretending_ to be from the Ministry."

"So the list is true, then?" Harry checked.

"The demands that the Prophet printed are all there, as well as others."

And if the school was anything to go by, people were seriously considering them. _Idiots._

"But the other attacks," Harry said, returning to the topic at hand. "They were found out by Order spies?"

Remus smiled. "You know I can't tell you that, Harry."

Harry gave a crooked smile back, as if to say 'it was worth a try'.

"And all this in order to do something that was pointless? Why would anyone even bother informing the Ministry or the Order? Maybe Voldemort knows whoever's in the Order and spying on him, and he wanted us to know about the attacks, or he's just trying to work out where the spies are."

Remus' face grew grim. "If that is the case, we shall have to hope that many of our informants retain their knack of getting out of dangerous situations."

"Look, I'd better go Remus – Sir Cadogan is starting to get really interested in what I'm doing: he seems to be following me around Hogwarts at the moment, and the other Portraits are just as bad. I think it's because the Fat Lady knew I was mysteriously missing when Ollivander was attacked, and he's desperate to find out where I was, so that he can tell everyone, ghost, portrait, or student of my 'heroic deeds'."

"Okay then Harry, I do need to leave myself actually, I have something that needs to be done, but one thing before you go," Remus said, and he looked grave, "those rumours about the Board of Governors – what's left of them – closing the school down because of the attacks-"

"They're true." Harry groaned.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry stared off into space. Could these feints by Voldemort really cause Hogwarts to close? Surely no-one would be that stupid? Especially with the Daily Prophet finally reporting some success from the Ministry when it came to making inroads into the Death Eaters. Granted, today's article suggested it could only have been a minor victory, but surely any progress should help prop up failing spirits? That seemed to be the case in Hogwarts anyway, although Snape had looked absolutely furious ever since they had entered the room.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about, Harry?" Hermione asked, bringing Harry's attention back to the real world, and away from possibilities, and simultaneously effectively ending the discussion started by that article which Harry had been ignoring.

He shook his head, "When we have some privacy."

"Look," Ron said, "we all have next class off, even Hermione, so you might as well tell us then."

"But-" Hermione began, but Ron interrupted her.

"Look, you can afford to miss one period's extra work, okay?"

"I don't." Ginny said tartly, and then shook her head as Ron started to amend his gaffe. "You can tell me later, it's okay. I've got Snape next, so he might decide to give out detentions to all the Gryffindors again, anyway, so you might have to wait a while for me."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"Positive, I'd better go anyway." She stood up.

"Do us a favour and don't wind him up." Ron told her. "He looks in an even better mood than usual today, and he tends to take it out on us."

Ginny gave him a withering look, but didn't reply.

Harry couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice as she left the table. "Us?"

"Potions is going to be bad enough for us, as well as you." Ron told him. "You notice he keeps glaring at us?"

Harry half turned, and met Snape's glowering eyes for a moment. The Potions Master pushed himself to his feet, ignored Professor Sinistra's farewell, and stalked out of the Great Hall.

"Oh Joy!" Harry muttered. "Let's just get out of here."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He hesitated as they walked out of the door; Snape was taking out his temper on some poor first year. As they made eye contact once more, Harry turned right instead of left, towards the castle grounds.

"Actually, how about we get out of the castle altogether; if we have a scene with Snape, we'll have all the portraits in the castle trying to listen in to wherever we go next." Harry said. "And I don't think I want them to hear this."

Considering what would happen if the Portraits and ghosts heard that the school really might be closed, with the rate that they spread things around the school, talking about it inside, even with Hermione's charm, probably _wasn't _a good idea. Harry remembered Hermione saying it would not stop anyone who was trying to eavesdrop from hearing what they were saying, and the Portraits were far too interested in him nowadays.

"What do you mean?" Ron demanded.

"Honestly Ron, what part of 'Harry wants privacy before saying anything' _don't_ you understand?" Hermione snapped. She looked most put out by the loss of her one free period a week to do extra work in.

Ron hesitated, before shaking his head, and shrugging. "Let's walk down to the lake then." He suggested in defeat.

Hermione acquiesced reluctantly. Not that she had much choice in the matter, Harry and Ron had already walked outside. Harry was sure he could feel Snape's eyes on his back as they left.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"They can't close Hogwarts!" Ron cried out in shock, "I mean, Hogwarts is practically the only place You-Know-Who hasn't invaded."

"They can though." Harry said glumly. "You're right, they shouldn't, but there's been way more stupid decisions made than sensible ones since Voldemort came back, hasn't there?"

"But it makes no sense!" Hermione protested. "Last summer proved that people aren't safe at home, didn't-"

"What Harry said," Ron interrupted.

"I got the feeling Remus meant that all these attacks on Hogwarts, and reports of them are just in order to get the Governors nervous, and evacuate the school like the Prophet is telling them to." Harry continued. "But isn't it obvious that if every student is forced to leave Hogwarts, then Voldemort will attack immediately we're out of its wards?"

He shivered as the wind picked up, and a cool breeze appeared.

"It won't just get the Governors nervous," Ron mused, "if people start to think You-Know-Who isn't scared of Dumbledore…"

"Then most people will give up." Hermione finished. "If there was some sign of Voldemort being beatable, then people might fight, but no-one's even telling people they have to keep fighting, let alone that we can get rid of Voldemort."

"Think I should do another interview with Skeeter?" Harry asked.

"And say what?" Hermione said sceptically.

"I haven't got that far yet." Harry sighed.

It was Harry who broke the long silence that followed. "I just want to feel I'm doing something."

"Don't we all." Ron muttered, and then stopped walking. "What's this about?"

It took Harry and Hermione a few seconds to see what he meant. A small paper aeroplane was approaching slowly, being sent this way and that by the slight breeze, and struggling to stay airborne as a result. Ron jumped in an effort to catch it, but it dodged out of the way. Evading his second grasp, it landed in Harry's palm.

"What?" Harry asked blankly. Ron shrugged.

"Open it." Hermione told him.

Shrugging himself now, Harry unfolded it, and then groaned before even reading the words inside. "Not now."

"What?" Ron asked anxiously.

Harry showed them the typewritten note, and looked skywards in supplication. "Was that really so hard to do?" He snapped. "Why exactly couldn't whoever is sending these things have done that instead of going after Hedwig?"

"That's the first time they've used magic, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

Harry's face lightened slightly. "Do you think that means we might be able to find out who's sending them?"

"Thought you said we shouldn't bother, in case it puts them in danger." Ron asked him.

Hermione however, didn't comment. She was the first one to actually look at the paper, and read what had been typed, rather than merely glancing at it.

"Yeah, well, Snape thought that too, so I've come around to agreeing with Mad-Eye," Harry said darkly.

"What's up?" Ron asked in confusion: Hermione nostrils had flared slightly.

"You've read this?" She asked, brandishing the note.

'_Ware the Half-breed._

"You're surprised?" Harry asked her impatiently. "I wasn't even sure I trusted these notes anymore anyway. This just proves it. Bigoted Death Eaters, or Slytherins, comes to the same thing, they're not really going to help us, are they?"

"I guess they mean Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"Probably. Although I always wondered if Flitwick might have Goblin blood or something. But Hagrid's the only one who's ever been accused of anything to hurt students, isn't he?" Harry pointed out, reclaiming the piece of paper, something striking him as strange as he glanced at it. "Must mean him. Whoever's sending these notes must be pretty thick though, we're hardly going to believe Hagrid is going to do anything, are we?"

"I take it Dumbledore's not around, so why don't we see what McGonagall thinks?" Ron suggested at length.

Harry shook his head, seething. "No point. Hagrid isn't going to do anything, is he?"

He stalked on.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that because you don't want to believe the notes are meant to help?" Hermione asked suspiciously as she and Ron sped up to keep pace.

Harry continued to stomp forwards, a denial on the tip of his tongue. "No. I'm not." He admitted at last, slowing slightly. "Happy?" Reining in his temper, he added, shaking his head again: "But come to think about it, we probably shouldn't go straight to McGonagall with this. I mean, considering everything to do with the Order is done in secret, we should probably try not to make things obvious."

Seeing Hermione didn't look anywhere near convinced, he continued. "Look, what do you think would happen if we're seen interrupting McGonagall's class, when we have her in what, twenty, thirty minutes anyway? What if the Order stop something Voldemort's planning tonight? I mean, we might as well shout out in the middle of the Great Hall at lunch that we have something from a spy trying to stop Voldemort. Look, we'll give her the note at the start of the class. At least it wouldn't be obvious then, right?"

Hermione still looked rather dubious. As did Ron, for that matter. Harry ignored them both, and stared down at the note, willing himself to imagine the sender was trying to help them. Something was still nagging at the back of his mind, but the more he tried to think about it, the further away it seemed to get.

"But-" Hermione began, but stopped as Harry glared at her.

"I'll try and pretend that it's meant to help, okay? How about we head down to see if Hagrid is around, would that satisfy you?"

"Fine!" Ron said at last. "Let's just… get back to whatever Moony was saying or something. Okay?"

Harry said nothing as they altered their course towards Hagrid's hut; his mind was still on the note.

He took it back out of his pocket, and studied it again. The typewritten letters stared out at him slightly crookedly from the sheet of paper, and a tiny tear had got larger since it had been put into his pocket. It was nothing like the other three regularly shaped notes he had received, and that, he realised in dawning comprehension, had been what seemed wrong about it to him.

"The note's torn." He said, stopping, and forcing the other two to as well, "All the other ones were in perfect condition, remember? And they were all really carefully done so that only I would get them. This is the first one they've even used magic to send it; the others they managed to just get them to wherever I was at the time.

"So you mean this was kind of last minute?" Ron asked.

The chill wind swept through again.

"What if the note is only partly completed?" Hermione suggested. "Maybe whoever sent it was interrupted before he or she could finish typing. Maybe it wasn't meant to be talking about Hagrid at all."

"Name another Half-Breed?" Harry asked sardonically: "Madam Maxime?"

"What if…" Ron began. "What if the only reason that whoever's sending these notes is, well, cryptic, is because he half expects someone to find out, and tell You-Know-Who?"

"Or she." Hermione interrupted pointedly. Ron ignored her.

"Maybe he wouldn't normally use the word Half-Breed? Or maybe he would, but still doesn't agree with You-Know-Who?

Harry stared at him. "I guess." He said unwillingly, before, even more grudgingly, continuing, "Maybe they aren't saying beware _of_ Hagrid, but beware of what might happen to him."

The three of them looked at each other in silence. Abruptly, Harry turned, and hurried onwards.

"Wait!" Ron yelled in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Going to check if Hagrid's okay." Harry replied succinctly.

"Shouldn't we tell someone just in case?" Hermione asked. "What if we let Professor McGonagall know too l-"

A girl screamed.

"Too late?" Ron said nervously, the statement transforming into a half question.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, starting to run towards the shrieks that had joined the original cry.

"But we've got to get help!" Hermione said in protest, as she and Ron chased after him.

A loud bellow filled the air, drowning out the screams.

Hagrid.

Harry broke into a sprint, shouting, "Well go and get help then!"

* * *

_A/N: Well, I think I can safely say I came up with three original Quidditch matches... Quite chuffed with myself there! If I do do a seventh year story... don't expect three more! :P_


	35. Disaster

**Chapter 35: Disaster**

The sound of panting caused him to glance to his side, showing Ron running just behind, meaning the choice of who had left for help could be made by a simple process of deduction. Harry slowed slightly – he'd felt a tingle in the back of his head.

"Is it just me, or is it getting colder?" Ron panted.

"Dementors." Harry said in horror as they skidded to a stop just past a line of trees.

It took a split second to take in the scene below them. Hagrid had obviously been taking a group of fourth years for Care of Magical Creatures class, for two young Unicorns were in a paddock near his hut, and the fourth years were grouped behind Hagrid in fear. There had to be at least two dozen Dementors there, and they were between the class and the school, the Forbidden Forest off to the side. Just out of the forest was a small band of centaurs, which looked as though they were trying to approach but couldn't stomach Dementors any more than humans could. A rain of arrows descended ineffectually.

"Get back!" Hagrid yelled to his class, trying to retreat quickly enough to stop them from being surrounded, but many of the students looked too scared to take his words in.

"Sonorus." Harry muttered, pointing his wand at his throat, and then yelled. "This way!"

The students turned, but the fact that they had originally been walking towards the lake meant getting to Ron and Harry also meant going away from the castle, and most of them didn't seem to like that idea. Hagrid half turned as well, until he saw Ron and Harry, before facing the Dementors again.

"Get goin'!" It sounded like Hagrid was trying to shout, but didn't have the strength. "Go!"

Ron had winced at the sound of Harry's magically enhanced voice, but he said nothing. His Patronus shot out of his wand just before Harry's did, both stag and dog bounding forwards, and the two Gryffindors set off after them. Hagrid turned back in Harry and Ron's direction once more, attempting to push some of the stationary students towards them, but as he did so, he fell to one knee, and was forced to turn back towards the approaching creatures. He fought back up to his impressive height. The Dementors appeared unsure as to what to do, as if they had never found someone who seemed able to fight their presence without using magic before, but gradually they fanned out, attempting to pen in the students, and isolate them from Hagrid, whilst a few of their number dealt with the half-giant.

Harry and Ron stopped in alarm. Most of the students had finally started to run, but one of the Dementors had closed upon a stationary girl, and gripped her by the throat, lifting her off the ground. A couple more Dementors turned back towards the struggling Hagrid, but the ones which remained looked as though they would overhaul the fleeing students very quickly, and be upon the two Gryffindor sixth years soon after. If they approached any more, they would be in danger of being attacked by the demonic creatures themselves, and unable to offer anyone else any help at all.

Hagrid gave a primeval yell, and swiped at the Dementors in front of him, as if trying to beat them back by his bare hands. Two of them flew backwards, causing Ron to gasp out loud.

"Giant blood!"

The Dementors paused once more, as though unsure of what was happening, or how someone was able to toss them to the side like that, and yet more of them turned back towards Hagrid, but the one holding the girl merely lowered its face. Hagrid struck another of the creatures, bowling it into its comrades, but four more replaced it. He beat at the Dementor that reached for his throat, forcing it backwards, but he was obviously losing strength.

"Come on!" Harry yelled in his booming voice, as if by urging he could make the fourth years run more quickly.

One of the Dementors was still moving after them, and as it approached the stragglers, it reached for its victim. The boy shrieked as he was caught, and screamed again as he was spun around to see the soulless husk of the girl who had been seized first. At the sound, another of the stragglers, a Gryffindor Muggleborn named Darla Lough, looked behind, and slipped. Harry saw Ritchie Coote turn, and run back to try to help her to her feet again. The Dementors behind seemed to be taking their time to catch up, and Harry hoped that was because the disappearing Hagrid was somehow still holding on.

As Ritchie pulled her upright, the Dementor that was furthest forward grabbed onto the girl's other arm, and began a tug of war. Ritchie was looking like he was getting weaker by the second, and the boy who had been seized first was surrounded now, but all they needed was a few more seconds, and the Patronuses would be there…

"Go!" Ron shouted to the approaching students, some of whom had turned around as though to go to the aid of Hagrid, and the three students, "We'll keep the Dementors back, just keep going! Go the long way back, and find a teacher! We'll help them." Before adding under his breath rather nervously, "Hopefully."

More of the creatures were approaching the two Gryffindor fourth years, although it looked like the Patronuses might just get there first, but even then they would still have to hope that they were strong enough to force back so many of them. The Dementor pulled, bringing its mouth towards Darla's, and pulling Ritchie closer as a result.

"Farcio!" Harry yelled, aiming at the thing's head.

The Dementor rocked backwards as the curse hit it, just inches away from performing the kiss, and, crucially, it lost its grip. The two students fell backwards a matter of yards as they were released, and as they scrambled to their feet, Ron's Patronus bounded up, placing itself between the two Gryffindors and the Dementors.

In the distance, Harry saw Hagrid, back down to one knee again, trying to turn his head away from the three creatures that were holding him, any one of which might lock their mouths over his and…

Harry could feel himself straining as he willed his Patronus to go faster. He yelled Hagrid's name, the Sonorus charm making it feel like the countryside was reverberating, just as the stag barrelled through the group of Dementors that had flocked like vultures to the other unfortunate, causing them to scatter.

As the boy crumpled first to his knees, and then fell face forwards, Hagrid managed to turn his face enough to see Harry, but it was quickly turned back towards the Dementors as if there was no longer any resistance. Harry could see Hagrid's hand weakly trying to push forwards, but he was being held up now, strength completely gone. The Dementor directly in front of him lowered its face once more, even as its companions dropped backwards.

It screeched its unearthly shriek as Harry's Patronus rammed into it, throwing it backwards. Hagrid fell face first to the ground as his support disappeared; Harry had no way of knowing if he had been in time. The Patronus forced the group around the half-giant back, sending them off towards the Forbidden Forest and away from both the school, and the fleeing students.

They retreated towards the pen with the Unicorns, and the centaurs, who had been approaching the battle, fell back once more, wheeling from side to side, as though trying to flank the Dementors. Harry suddenly realised why the centaurs were there. They were trying to release the Unicorns, to allow them to escape. Harry's Patronus disappeared as, in shock, he realised what he might have done, by herding them that way, for the group of Dementors he had chased away had turned to attack the easier prey.

Harry glanced to his side to see beads of sweat running down Ron's face, the Dementors that Harry's Patronus had barrelled through had joined the force being kept at bay by Ron's dog, which was now retreating slowly as the two fourth years staggered up the slope towards them.

"Quietus." Harry muttered, before turning to Ron and trying to sound calm. "Keep them there as long as you can. You know you can do it."

Ron gave Harry a quick look, and Harry saw the beginnings of doubt in his eyes.

"_I_ know you can do it, Ron. All we have to do is delay them long enough for Hermione to come with help, okay, that's all. Keep your Patronus retreating slowly if you need to, don't use all your strength up at once."

He looked frantically at the centaurs and the trapped Unicorns again, and suddenly knew one thing he could do to help.

"Accio gate!" He cried, fixing it in his head.

Immediately he heard it rip free, he stopped concentrating on it, and it landed on the ground. He vaguely noticed the Unicorns being chased as they galloped back towards the forest, and hoped he had been in time. Taking a step forward, he inhaled deeply. Dumbledore had delayed Voldemort with wards and charms; if they were going to last until help arrived, then now was the time for Harry to make the strongest ward of his life. Whatever else Dementors were, they were still solid, physical beings: a ward to stop matter should work. He began to picture the area he wanted to create it in, in his head, but Ron's gasped voice interrupted his concentration.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no way those two will be able to out run the Dementors. Just give me as much time as you can. I trust you, Ron."

"That's what I was afraid of." Ron muttered, but his voice was calmer, and he was breathing slightly easier.

He was sending his Patronus to and fro, in an effort to get the Dementors to retreat, and yet not take too much of his strength, but he was being driven back steadily. At the moment, however, the last two students were gaining distance, and getting closer and closer to where Harry was building the ward. Feeling remarkably calm considering the situation, Harry started on the last cantrip, but paused as he was about to reach the end. Ritchie and Darla had to get past them first.

Harry glanced at Ron, who was starting to show the strain of keeping the Dementors back. Harry thought he'd been making a heroic effort to do as well as he was, but if he kept going much longer he'd collapse. Using his Occlumency techniques to compartmentalise, and try to keep his position in the incantation in his mind, he watched as Darla collapsed completely, just ten yards away. There was no way Ritchie could pull her weight.

"Ron." Harry said slowly, desperately trying to keep his unfinished ward active. "Let your Patronus go, and get them behind us."

"But what about Hagr-" Ron began.

"Just do it." Harry said urgently.

The large dog disappeared, and after the initial confusion of the Dementors, they began to sweep up the hill, ignoring the three bodies on the ground behind them. Harry tried to tune out everything except for his spell, and the position of the people in front of him. He didn't hear the words Ron said, or anything said in reply, but he did see Ron grab the girl by the waist, and bodily heave her up the hill, and he did see the hope in Ritchie's eyes as he reached Harry. But he also saw just how much energy Ron had expended whilst trying to keep the Dementors at bay. Harry pushed away the fear that Ron might be too weak, and tried to keep his focus.

"Stay just behind me." Harry said before Ritchie could leave the circle of the ward, each word straining his concentration to the limit.

The Dementors were gaining, but Ron was getting closer and closer to where the ward would start. Darla slipped from Ron's grasp, and he bent to pick up the dead weight once more, losing precious seconds. Either the Dementors seemed to sense they were in danger of losing their prey, or else Ron was taking longer than Harry had thought he would. His eyes glued to Ron's strides, he tried to measure how long they would take. Five more steps. Four. Darla nearly slipped out of Ron's arms again, but he regained his grip quickly, with a glance behind him, he put even more urgency in his movements. Two. One. Harry could feel the Dementors working away at his Occlumency defences.

"Plena!" Harry gasped, and found himself wavering on his feet from pure mental exertion as the ward was completed. Remembering himself, he spoke urgently to his companions, "Just stay here, the ward's around us in a circle."

The first Dementor reached out towards them almost as soon as the ward had been raised, but found itself blocked by an invisible barrier. Harry looked around, Ritchie was now unconscious too – although both the fourth years were still shivering uncontrollably – and Ron had collapsed to his knees, a fearful, glazed look on his face. Now it was all up to him.

"Expecto Patronum."

The stag shot out of the wand, and charged into the first Dementor, sending it flying backwards in pain, but Harry had no false belief in his own ability. He knew that he could deal with, possibly as many as half this number, if he was lucky, but about sixteen Dementors on his own, was asking a bit much. The one time he had been able to produce a Patronus that strong, there had been slightly extenuating circumstances. The stag could probably throw the Dementors around a bit, but eventually he would tire, just like Ron had.

As he recalled his Patronus to him, the Dementors approached again, spreading out, trying to find a way through. It was claustrophobic, as clawed hands reached forwards to scrape at the barrier, and when that failed, the Dementors pressed themselves bodily against the ward, starting to surround them. As long as his Patronus was there, and he kept up his Occlumency defences, he should be able to keep the ward up – and he only needed to keep the ward up until help arrived. The pain from the pressure on the ward was nothing compared to some of the things Voldemort had put him through.

A voice gasped out beside him. "Expecto… … Patronum."

Ron was somehow conscious; possibly by sheer stubbornness. His Patronus reappeared, although it was wispy, and barely formed, and it stood beside Harry's fully formed one.

"I don't suppose…" Ron gasped, "that you'd like to kill them all… would you?"

He attempted to get to his feet, but couldn't find the strength. Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"Merlin Ron, you need to lie down, not stand up. And I'd love to kill them all, but I don't think that's going to happen. I guess we just wait for help." Harry squatted down on his haunches.

"How are you so calm?" Ron asked in disbelief, his voice losing some of the wheezing.

In fact, when he looked across again, Harry thought Ron was looking a bit stronger, even if there was still no way he could have got to his feet. _The healing power of Patronuses?_

Harry, despite being surrounded by Dementors, managed a chuckle. "How are you still conscious?"

Ron just shook his head, and looked around at the wall of infuriated Dementors as they continued to surround them. They had passed the semi-circle mark, and now the creatures were starting to cut off the area behind them. Soon they would be completely encircled.

"I hope… Hermione gets here soon… we seem to have been here hours."

"Nearer minutes." Harry told him, and winced. He shook his head as Ron looked alarmed. "I'm okay, it's just the pressure on the ward. A wizard could get rid of it easily, but all these things can do is try to break it with their claws."

"Shall we try and push them back?" Ron managed to ask.

"Not yet, I'm fine at the moment. If I wait until I can't take much more, before we try that, we'll gain more time." He exhaled heavily, and then gave an involuntary gasp of pain. "We just hold on, okay?"

The seconds felt like minutes, and the minutes like hours, but Harry's head remained clear, and his ward remained stable. Although Ron's Patronus was still there, Ron himself was swaying on his knees; but Harry was okay. He gave another gasp: soon he'd have to force the Dementors away to allow the ward (and his head) to recover. His stag looked back towards him reassuringly, as though to tell Harry it would all work out. Harry, however, was finding himself wondering if it was really taking Hermione so long to get help, or if time had somehow slowed down even more than Ron had thought.

The Patronus pushed its way forward, butting two Dementors backwards, and Harry felt the pressure ease. It eased more than Harry had expected, actually, and as he glanced towards Ron as Ron's wispy Patronus finally disappeared, he saw the Dementors behind them start to fall away.

"Harry! Ron!"

"Good old Hermione." Ron managed. "Right on time." He sighed.

Harry barely had time to see two Patronus approaching before Ron slumped to the ground, unconscious. McGonagall and Snape approached at a pace which meant Hermione had to jog just to keep up; her face was as white as a sheet. Unlike McGonagall's shocked look, the Potions' Professor looked just as angry as at breakfast, but his expression faded into nothingness as he saw Harry staring at him. Harry continued to stare as the five figures approached, wishing for the hundredth time that he knew what Snape was thinking. Was he angry about the attack, or angry that he had to do something to stop it? Or, for that matter, was he just angry about whatever he was livid about at breakfast?

The Patronuses – McGonagall's owl foremost – slowed as they reached the four Gryffindors, content to remain, guarding against any Dementors that might return; allowing Harry to follow their disorganised retreat. His vision slid onto the three motionless figures below, and he allowed the ward around them to drop as soon as he could. His own Patronus stood guard in front of him as he watched them return the way they had come, back towards the paddock which had contained the Unicorns. With a sudden sense of urgency, he moved downhill, his stag galloping in front of him. Now that the others were safe, one thought, and one thought only, had entered his head. Hagrid. He heard voices being raised behind him, but he didn't hear the words being said.

"Hagrid!" He yelled, hoping against hope that the prone body would move, and yet that the Dementors would continue past him regardless.

The body remained motionless, and two Dementors slowed as the rest passed the bodies. They stooped as they reached Hagrid's body. _Did that mean Hagrid was alive_? Harry broke into an even faster sprint; one of the Dementors had turned Hagrid over, so that his face was facing the sun. The other Dementor had faced back towards Harry, and, seeing just one Patronus, and one isolated person, moved towards him, clawed hand ready to strike at the approaching stag. A shriek signalled that the Patronus struck first, Dementor flying sideways and backwards. Harry sent it towards the second Dementor, the one examining Hagrid, but yet not yet descending to kiss. That too flew backwards, and it glided on its way back towards the Forest, as the others had.

Harry skidded past the two bodies of the students, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin, and knelt beside Hagrid. He was breathing slowly and gently, but Harry had no way of knowing if he was okay or not. He cradled Hagrid's heavy head in his arms, praying to anyone who might listen for Hagrid to open his eyes, and speak. His Patronus trotted back to him, and Harry willed it to touch Hagrid, and provide him with enough strength to wake up. Hagrid didn't move; his closed eyes didn't even flicker. Harry felt the back of his eyes burning.

Hagrid couldn't die; he couldn't have lost his soul. It had been he who had introduced Harry to the world of magic, he who had been Harry's first friend – magical or otherwise –, he whose mere presence had made the Dursleys think twice about harming him. His mind raced through all the magic he knew, searching for something he knew wasn't there: a counter to the Dementors.

"Enervate." He muttered, pointing his wand towards Hagrid.

Nothing happened. Panic welled up inside Harry; more panic than there had been at any time during the fight.

Harry looked back up towards the teachers, frantically wishing that Dumbledore could be there, that when he would see Hagrid he would be able to tell Harry that he _had _been in time, that Hagrid _was _all right.

_I should have given the note to someone in the Order immediately I got it. Maybe they would have noticed that the note had been rushed. Maybe they wouldn't have just assumed that because it had said Half-Breed they weren't helping us. I was an idiot, who would have been stupid enough to try and annoy me if they were helping, or if they were trying to fool me? Maybe-_

He looked up as he felt the probe against his Occlumency defences once more. The Dementor that Harry's Patronus had thrown out of the way in the rush to Hagrid's side was now directly between Harry and the others, and it was approaching him quickly. McGonagall's Patronus was behind it upon its right, Snape's fox on its left, and both of them were catching up. His Patronus was directly facing it.

Harry glanced at the large head cradled in his arms, and felt a well of hatred towards the Dementor, and Dementors in general, that even the presence of his Patronus couldn't soothe. Responding to his thoughts, the stag advanced towards the Dementor forcing the creature to stop and turn, only to find itself trapped. The stag jumped towards it, causing it to screech in pain, but it could only retreat so far, with the other two Patronuses behind it. The stag stepped forward predatorily again.

Another scream.

As it advanced a third time, the Dementor flung itself backwards, trying to avoid the contact, only to throw itself into the ghostly fox of Snape's, behind, and rebound into Harry's stag. With the mixture of a sigh and scream that Harry had heard just once before, the Dementor collapsed into a pile of robes and dust.

Harry stared down at Hagrid's expressionless face once more, unable to even think.

"Potter," He looked up in shock, for he had not heard McGonagall approaching, the words sounded throaty, "the two students were kissed?"

Harry nodded, glancing back at the dull eyes of each child, devoid of any spark. "I don't know about Hagrid." He burst out desperately. "I thought I was in time, but he won't wake. Even Enervate-"

"Lay him down;" Harry's Head of House said, the worry in her voice not helping Harry's nervousness at all, "if there is no energy for the spell to use..."

A thrill of hope filled Harry as he allowed the head to rest on the ground, and he moved backwards, still on his knees. McGonagall pointed her wand towards Hagrid, and his eyes opened. Another incantation caused a small cylinder of light to exit her wand, which she moved from side to side. After seconds – too many seconds – the pupils moved from side to side with the cylinder.

"Does that mean?" Harry asked, hardly daring to hope.

McGonagall nodded, and sighed in what was most likely relief. "Hagrid will be fine, Potter. Severus or I will take him to Madam Pomfrey. Wh- What happened, Mr Potter?"

Harry paused before even thinking about replying; above them Snape was placing the three unconscious Gryffindors onto stretchers, reminding Harry of his third year. Hermione was holding Ron's hand. This time however, he and his Patronus had not prevented the Dementors kissing… He jumped, as he felt a hand on his shoulder: McGonagall was one of the last people he would have expected to make a comforting gesture like that.

"I am very proud that you and Mr Weasley are members of my House, P- Harry. I must know what happened. If more Dementors are loose in the grounds, more people may be at risk."

Harry caught his breath in surprise. Two figures had emerged from inside the Forest, a Unicorn, and a centaur and it was that, more than McGonagall's words or gesture that broke his unpleasant thoughts. McGonagall turned to see what had caught Harry's attention with a hitch in her breath, ready for another attack, which she quickly hid as she saw them. The Unicorn was trotting forward quite quickly; behind it, the centaur was moving with a pronounced limp. Harry recognised him as he approached: it was Bane, favouring a very stiff back.

Harry just stared, unable to take his eyes off the young Unicorn approaching. As he did so, a thought entered his head, to join his thoughts of self-reproach earlier.

_What would have happened if I had gone to McGonagall, and she hadn't realised what it meant or we had been even later?_

"The centaurs were trying to free the Unicorns from the paddock, so they weren't helpless against the Dementors." Harry said softly. "I took the gate off so they could get out."

The Unicorn stopped a good ten yards away from the two humans, and cocked its head as it gazed at them. Bane continued to advance at a more sedate pace behind. With a soft whinny, the Unicorn bowed its head, before turning, and galloping past Bane, back to the forest.

"Unicorns are very intelligent." The Transfiguration Professor said, painfully reminding Harry of how Hermione tried to calm herself through instruction. It was unnerving to see Minerva McGonagall out of her usual composed demeanour.

Harry could only nod his head. With a sudden thought of panic, the tranquil moment was gone, and Harry scrambled to his feet.

"Bane! The Dementors aren't attacking you, are they?" He turned to his teacher, and spoke urgently. "I managed to make some of the Dementors retreat, but they went after the centaurs, into the forest."

Bane stopped, even further away than the Unicorn had. He regarded Harry carefully.

"You freed the foals." He said in his deep voice, "Why?"

"Why?" Harry asked in amazement, without even thinking. "I couldn't let the Dementors attack them, or you when you were trying to release them."

After a long stare, Bane turned side on. "The Dementors cannot touch us in our forest. None have greater forest lore than we. We led them towards the abomination Hagrid placed in our domain. The giant will deal with them. It has not enough intelligence to be affected more than slightly."

"Do you require any assistance?"

Harry thought he understood the centaurs better than McGonagall, for he could have told her that her question would border on an insult to a centaur.

Bane turned completely, ignoring the question just as Harry had expected, and trotted a couple of steps away, before stopping once more to call behind him. "They entered the grounds through our forest." And with that, Bane made his way carefully after the Unicorn.

"How did they get in?" Harry asked, as they watched him retreat.

Professor McGonagall didn't answer.

"Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around him, virtually knocking him to the ground.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"What happened to Ron!" Hermione demanded.

"He kept the Dementors back long enough for Ritchie and Darla to reach us, and for me to make the ward. He'll be fine, he's just exhausted."

Harry looked behind to where Professor McGonagall and Snape were talking animatedly, but in secret. The two soulless husks that once were students, and Hagrid, had been placed on stretchers, to join Ron, Ritchie, and Darla. The initial knowledge that Hagrid had avoided the kiss had given Harry a sense of relief, which he now felt slightly ashamed of when he saw the two that hadn't been lucky enough to avoid that fate.

"They aren't your fault, Harry." Hermione said, following his gaze.

"I know." Harry replied quietly, giving a slightly helpless shrug of the shoulders. "We were too late. Half a minute sooner, and we might have saved the Slytherin." He gave a bitter half-snort. "Do you think that Voldemort told them to go after Slytherins as well as everyone else, or was it just chance?"

"Potter. Granger." Snape's biting tone caused Harry to jump. Anyone would have thought they had been the cause of the attack. The two teachers were walking towards them. "Return to the castle at once, and gather anyone you see into the Great Hall. No-one must be left without the protection of a teacher."

Harry began to bristle, but controlled his initial urge to snap back. It was Hermione who made the impulsive response.

"But Ron!"

"Mr Weasley will be quite safe with us." Snape retorted. "Now go!"

"Severus," Professor McGonagall began quietly.

Snape almost rounded on her as well, but managed to stop himself. "This could close the school, Minerva and-" He stopped talking, and turned with a wave of his hand, and a shake of his head; he strode back to the stretchers.

"I think we can all understand the reason for Severus' frayed temper." McGonagall told them at a near funereal volume. "However, he is still quite right about the need for you to return to the castle. The remainder of Hagrid's class, along with my own, and Severus' are already in the Great Hall, along with-" she cleared her throat "-Professor Trelawney, who happened to be without a class, but it is imperative that, as quickly, and quietly, as possible we gather the school together."

"Can't you just tell the whole school like you did when the Chamber of Secrets was opened?" Harry asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid not, for two reasons. Firstly we are not sure whether all the Dementors have fled or not, and calm is far safer than widespread panic. Secondly, and more practically, it is only the Headmaster or Headmistress whom Hogwarts will allow to use that particular charm. Can I rely upon you to relay this message to Professor Flitwick, firstly, and then the other teachers until enough of the staff know about the situation to do this themselves?"

Harry and Hermione both nodded. "Yes Professor."

They shared a glance, before, as one, they turned back up the slope towards the castle. After the first conversationless minute they both looked behind: who first made the gesture, neither could have said. Harry could feel Hermione look away from the motionless bodies below, and study his face, but he refused to turn to meet her gaze; each time he saw those bodies he felt more guilty that he had been just that bit too late.

Eventually Hermione told him gently, "You were in time to save Hagrid and the rest of the class. Hagrid's the one teacher in the school who couldn't have cast a Patronus, and none of the fourth years could have."

Harry looked at her, nodded, and then glanced backwards once more, before sighing. "Yeah, and McGonagall says Hagrid will be fine in time." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione look anxiously back at Ron.

"Ron'll be fine, Hermione."

"We should be with him." She said through furious gritted teeth.

"I know, but Snape…"

Harry could feel his temper boiling below the surface. Snape had known about the attack, he was certain of it, he was too highly placed in the Death Eaters not to. That meant that either he was a traitor, or else he had just been willing to allow a whole class and Hagrid to die in order to keep his cover. Remembering how Snape had tried to paint himself as a martyr, he fell silent once more, unwilling to examine that as thoroughly as he'd have to if he said anything, just in case. As though Snape could read his thoughts he turned and stared, or maybe rather glared, at him. A glance to the side showed that Hermione looked to be going through an internal struggle of her own, and they turned, and walked on in silence once more.

Would Snape even blame himself? He knew perfectly well that if Hagrid had not survived, or been in trouble in the first place, _he_, Harry, would right now be castigating himself for the two he had been unable to help, rather than merely feeling this deadened sense of failure. But then, that was part and parcel of who he was, and he hoped he was as far removed from Snape in personality as possible.

And so what if that meant he had a 'saving people thing'? If it did, then, well, he had a 'saving people thing'. It might make him predictable to Voldemort, but no more than Voldemort's complete disdain for life made whatever he did unsurprising. Maybe eventually even Slytherins would realise that he had no morals. After all, one of the victims _had_ been a Slytherin. Surely they had to see that no matter who they were, Voldemort's callousness meant they were at risk?

"But why now?" Harry asked eventually as the castle came in sight. "He seems to have been attacking a lot more than ever before, but why…" He trailed off.

Hermione was watching him carefully. "Harry?"

"He's scared." Harry said in quiet dawning comprehension. "He isn't trying to delay us, or anything like that. He's worried that we'll find the Scrivenings, and that something in there will help us defeat him. He's trying to force everyone into submission before we can do anything."

"But why attack Hogwarts?" Hermione asked sceptically. "Surely he would want to keep away from any more confrontations with Dumbledore in case he was defeated, and people became less afraid."

"To try and make people think he's unbeatable. It's a gambit." Harry replied immediately, feeling more and more certain that he was right. "How many people think Dumbledore is the only one who can stand up to Voldemort? Well, apart from me that is. Ron's right; that _is_ basically what the Prophet has been saying. Look: say he gets the Governors to close Hogwarts. Everyone is too scared to even leave their houses at the moment in case they are attacked, and the Ministry lose more fights than they win anyway, whatever happened yesterday. If he shows he's no longer scared of Dumbledore, and even defeats him by forcing the school to close, then people won't think we stand a chance. Anyway, maybe he knew Dumbledore wasn't here? It wouldn't be hard for someone to tell him he wasn't in the Great Hall the last few days, would it?"

"You might be right." Hermione allowed.

"I know I am." Harry told her confidently. "Nothing says he can't be trying to delay us as well. I mean, he always seems to attack in more than one way, doesn't he?"

Hermione nodded. Fifty yards away, the huge door which gave entrance to Hogwarts was open. A number of students were gathered just outside the Great Hall, looking fearful. So much for Trelawney looking after them all in the Great Hall.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Was I real-"

He stopped speaking. Once more, Hermione was white as a sheet.

"What?" He asked.

Hermione's voice quavered. "What if the Dementors aren't the only way Voldemort is attacking."

"You mean he's found two ways to get through Hogwarts wards?" Harry asked, acting the sceptic this time.

"We still haven't worked out how Pettigrew keeps getting past them, have we?"

Harry sped up, Hermione right behind him. Professor Flitwick had managed to push himself to the front of the student body, and was shepherding the students into the Great Hall without either Harry or Hermione having to ask him to. The question that had come to mind just as Hermione had interrupted him returned. _Just how loud had his Sonorus charm been?_

A muttering of voices rose from the students as they saw Harry and Hermione, but they started to file in slowly and reluctantly anyway.

Ten yards away from the castle, they could see the Head Girl join the Charms teacher, and another Prefect wormed her way through the surprisingly large mass of students, most of whom were still staring at the two of them.

Harry stopped, causing Hermione to turn and look at him. She might have read his reluctance in his expression, but Harry said simply in explanation: "I'm not going in there."

"I'll tell him, don't worry." Hermione muttered, so that no-one could hear her.

"Thanks – I'll go find another teacher or something; let them know. If you're right we need to get to everyone as soon as possible."

He slipped past the throng, pretending that he couldn't hear the questions shouted out, and ignoring Flitwick just as determinedly. He took a deep breath, and made his way towards the corner furthest away from him, whose corridor would take him to the closest classroom: Ancient Runes. Just as he turned the corner, a sudden burst of heat from his pocket made him yelp, and as he dove for it, the note flew back out.

As it levitated in the air, lines of blue flame appeared, so bright, he had to look away. When he chanced a second look, carbon letters had replaced the typewritten note, this time in handwritten block capitals.

_The Muggle-lovers are next._

Harry stared at it, rereading it twice, before, just as the realisation that more magic that could be tracked down to the sender was being used came to him, the blue flames reappeared once more. This time they covered the paper, so hot that Harry was forced to take a few steps backwards from the heat. The paper was consumed from all sides, the fire so hot, it didn't even leave ashes. With a curse, Harry hurried forwards again, running the words through his head.

_The Muggle-lovers…_

An unpleasant idea was forming itself; each footstep seemed to make it clearer. _If Voldemort _has_ managed to breach Hogwarts defences twice, then a natural target would be… _He reached into his robes pocket once more.

Even before the lines appeared, he tapped the map with his wand. "Has anything happened in the Muggle Studies classroom?"

Prongs' writing had appeared before he had finished the sentence, but it was in a hesitant, thin script. _Peter… Was just…_

He tapped the map again. "Was just what? He isn't in the-" He asked urgently.

Padfoot interrupted._ Peter was in there a few minutes ago._

Harry swallowed. "Is anyone in there?"

There was a pause, before Prongs replied monosyllabically. Yes_._

The map folded itself to show that Charity Burbage was taking a class of third years.

Harry ran, each footfall echoing in the empty corridor, his gasps for breath reminding him of just how much had just been taken out of him by the Dementors. He managed a glance at the map, which had helpfully returned to where he was, drawing arrows for the quickest route, very useful seeing as Harry had never been there. Harry was sure it was no mere coincidence that it was at the rear of the castle.

He ignored his tiring legs, and attempted to put on another spurt. Each step he took, he expected to hear screams; each step he took he tried to force himself to go quicker. He paid no attention to the Portraits he sped by, nor the murmur of voices as he sprinted past the Ancient Runes classroom towards the small staircase which was the quickest way up the two floors he needed to go.

He took the stairs two at a time, and burst through a tapestry hiding a secret passageway, cutting minutes off his route, trying desperately not to allow thoughts of failure to enter his head. He skidded out of what appeared to be a blank section of wall to re-enter the normal corridors mere feet away from the Muggle Studies classroom. He didn't bother knocking, but rather burst through the door.

Charity Burbage was a small woman, barely five foot tall, and as thin as a rake. All Harry knew of her was her appearance, that she had a welcoming smile, and a soft voice. Or at least, he thought it had been a soft voice.

"Would you kindly exp-" She sounded furious.

Harry cut across her, slightly distorting the truth in an effort to be believed. "Voldemort's trying to attack the school, Professor Dumbledore wants everyone into the Great Hall."

"My class may leave when the period finishes. There is still five minutes to go. Now, if you would kindly leave the classroom and allow me to finish teaching, Mr Potter?"

Harry stared at her. "Haven't you been listening? Voldemort is trying to attack the school. We might not _have_ five minutes."

Her frowning face did not give an inch. "If it were that important, Professor Dumbledore would inform the school personally. Magic does allow people to do such things Mr Potter."

Harry's mouth dropped, flabbergasted. He glanced around the room, spotting a few familiar faces from Gryffindor, including Jimmy Peakes and Demelza Robins.

"Look." Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm, mind racing as he tried to improvise his story on his feet. "If Professor Dumbledore were to do that, then he would warn any Death Eaters that might be in the castle. You have to go, now." He looked around once more. "Demelza, Jimmy, get ev-"

"Just what exactly do you think you are doing?" The Muggle Studies teacher turned towards him furiously.

"Trying to save your lives." Harry snapped. "Demelza, Jimmy, I need you two to get everyone to the Great Hall."

"Sit down." Professor Burbage snapped, as Jimmy slid his chair back.

Harry found his wand pointing towards the teacher, but how exactly it had got there, he wasn't sure. For some reason Aravenne's attitude towards his fame popped into his head, and he made his choice.

"About fifteen minutes ago, nearly thirty Dementors attacked the Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron Weasley and I managed to stop them until help could come, but we weren't soon enough." Harry nodded towards the class, trying to hide his exhausted panting. "The Daily Prophet's been telling you that I'm going to save you from Lord Voldemort. Well _let _me. Demelza, Jimmy, get everyone out. Now. Expelliarmus!"

As he had been speaking, Charity Burbage had drawn her wand, which was now in Harry's left hand.

"Go!" Harry yelled. "Leave your stuff, just get out of here!"

Chairs scraped.

"Do not expect to be able to attack a teacher and get away with it, Mr Potter." Burbage shouted angrily over the sound of people exiting the room.

"Hell! Report me to Professor Dumbledore and my Head of House. Just get out of the bloody room so you can."

The room was virtually cleared of students, but Harry expected something to happen at any minute.

"Bullatueor. Protego Corporis." The two shields raised around him, the invisible shield to protect from gasses or heat, or anything not solid, and the foggy one to protect from anything else. _I hope_. _It's not like I have a clue what might be coming, is it?_

Demelza was the last to leave the room.

"Get them to the Great Hall!" Harry yelled as he retreated through the door himself, keeping his eyes fixed on the teacher. "Look, come on! You want to try and get me expelled, well go and get Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall to expel me!"

Burbage turned stiffly to pick up her bags. The air seemed to charge, just as it had when Dumbledore had fought Voldemort. Harry pointed both wands at the Muggle Studies teacher.

"MUTUCUTUS!" He yelled.

A split second after the shield formed, the room exploded. Green flames erupted throughout the room, rubble flying in every single direction. Harry's lent shield buckled under the strain of heat and soaring wreckage, and then disappeared completely. He found himself unable to look away from the pain on the stubborn teacher's face for the split second before she was swallowed by the flames, and hidden from view.

His own shields flared into existence, creating a bubble of clear space. Protected from most of the rubble, Harry still found himself feeling hotter, and hotter. In the split second he had to think, he knew intuitively that the Congelipse charm would not protect from this kind of flame. He could feel the pressure building up on the shields, and he nearly lost them as a three foot piece of wall struck.

"Mutucutus!" Two female voices rang out as one, and Harry felt the pressure ease.

Hermione and Ginny's shields had quite possibly saved his life. Without pausing to even wonder how Hermione was there, let alone Ginny, Harry raised both wands, and mentally sketched the wand motion for the shield in his mind as he recast it.

"Bullatueor!"

He knew he should get to the side, away from the danger, but he couldn't move his feet fast enough, or wrench his eyes from the image superimposed on the flames, of Professor Charity Burbage.

"Habeo!"

As Dumbledore's voice rang out, a see-through barrier covered the doorway, and the flames around Harry disappeared.

Harry found himself staggering to the ground, and ending up on his bottom. He kept staring into the room which still seemed to be both an inferno, and a tornado, as if whatever jinx had caused it did not wish to stop. Without knowing how, he found his hands covering almost all of his face, only his eyes remained exposed.

"Harry!"

"She wouldn't leave." Harry said hollowly, almost in disbelief, as Ginny hugged him. "She wouldn't leave."

He gazed at the blaze in front of him, unable to pull his eyes away until Ginny handed him the Marauders' Map which had fallen from where he had stuffed it into his pocket. He numbly glanced at it. Pettigrew had written something.

_Harry. Don't… Don't let me do… do anything like that again. If you have to, k- kill me. Please._

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Harry." Hermione said urgently as Harry stared at Wormtail's incredible message. "Harry, did Pettigrew go anywhere else?"

"Mr Pettigrew has left the castle and grounds, and now that the explosive charm he placed inside Hogwarts has been neutralised, there is currently no cause for further alarm." Dumbledore said calmly.

"How do you know?" Ginny asked, startled. "Professor."

"Peter Pettigrew, or possibly Lord Voldemort himself, made a miscalculation, Miss Weasley. Once whatever charm that was protecting the Dementors from Hogwarts wards vanished, I assume once they were forced to face a Patronus, then I became aware of their existence and once I was aware of one breach the spells shielding Peter Pettigrew and his own charms from me were easily spotted." He sighed and shook his head, voice lowering slightly.

"However, I obviously returned to the castle too late to thwart the Dementors or prevent this charm from being set off. We are all in your debt, and I in particular, not to mention Mr Weasley's."

"It was Harry." Ginny said quietly.

"Oho! But it was a good thing you were here, gallant young mistresses." Harry jumped slightly at Sir Cadogan's voice, and swivelled around to view an otherwise empty portrait to see the knight watching keenly from the darkness.

"Ah, Sir Cadogan," Dumbledore cut in smoothly, "I wonder if you could please head a group of Portraits to ensure that all Classrooms are empty, and students and teachers are in the Great Hall?"

Sir Cadogan raised his sword in salute. "Allow me sah!" And with that, he clanked away.

"He's right, Ginny." Harry said hollowly, picking himself up from the floor, but still looking at the dancing flames. "I doubt my shields would have held without you two. Besides, I didn't do enough, did I? She- She-" Harry inhaled, and bitter emotion flooded into his voice, filling the emptiness. "Professor Burbage didn't believe me. I couldn't get her to leave."

Dumbledore was quiet for a couple of seconds, and when he spoke it was in a quiet tone meant only for Harry. "Your actions today have saved numerous lives. There is not one person who can claim that you have done any less than your best this morning, nor that any other could have done any better."

"If you were here, you could have stopped it." Harry murmured, nearly inaudibly.

"I could." Dumbledore confirmed. "However, not only do I have the advantage of my connection to Hogwarts and its wards, but I also have the benefit of my status as Headmaster. As we have seen, however, despite being privy to the knowledge provided by the castle, I was unable to be here in time to do just that, which makes the question academic. Your presence was vital." He waited for Harry to nod, before turning towards Ginny. "Your presence was of paramount importance also, Miss Weasley. Without you, or Miss Granger, Harry's life would have been at grave risk."

"Professor." Harry said, looking up from the map, which he had just glanced at once more. "Wormtail wasn't gone when you said he was, he was in the Chamber of Secrets. He's gone now though." He added hastily.

An arrested expression struck Dumbledore's face. "Is that so?" It sounded more rhetorical than anything, so Harry stayed silent. "How, may I enquire, do you know this?"

"You know about Dad's map? Dad, Sirius and Moony?" Harry checked, before continuing at Dumbledore's nod, averting his eyes from Ginny's. "Well, Hermione and I added the Chamber on to it, before Christmas."

Ginny, however, was looking past him, back the way she and Hermione had come.

"I see." Dumbledore mused. "I think, then, that one of the castle's defensive failures may be explained. I will require your help, Harry, if the weakness lies there. I believe I need access to the Chamber of Secrets myself, and perhaps some interpreting with Shiakana and Kaen. If this is the problem, however, I fear it could take a lot of work to restore Hogwarts wards to what they once were."

"Demelza?" Ginny interrupted quietly.

Harry turned to see Demelza Robins standing ten yards away. Behind her, peering around the corner as though scared of being seen, were at least five of the Muggle Studies class, who had returned to see what had happened. She was staring at the room, transfixed by the continuing blaze-cum-hurricane.

"Are you alright Demelza?" Ginny repeated softly.

She nodded slowly, before turning back to the three students and headmaster. Although she tried to speak, it took a number of efforts. Harry found himself noticing the streaks of moisture down her cheeks.

"Thanks to Harry. I- Um-" It was obvious she didn't know what to say; Harry didn't either. Demelza's eyes flicked back towards the classroom. "Er- Harry?" She continued with a slight stutter. "Did you mean what you said? Earlier, I mean, when you were trying to get us out of- of there?"

Harry found himself inadvertently looking at first Ginny's, and then Hermione's faces, before returning to Demelza.

"I- Well." Harry tried to force both the bitterness, and the hollowness it had filled from his voice.

_Let me save you._

"I wanted to get you all out." Demelza nodded, and Harry didn't even attempt to decipher the expression on her face, but rather continued determinedly. "But – well – I'm never going to stop fighting Voldemort or stop trying to stop him doing whatever he wants. So, I guess, yeah, in a way I meant it."

Harry hoped desperately that that wasn't awe that filled his fellow Quidditch player's face, and really didn't want to see the expressions on his friends' or Dumbledore's face either.

"Is the Professor -?" Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the question. Harry turned his face, but not soon enough to avoid seeing Demelza's pale face get even paler. Hermione or Ginny must have shaken their heads. She was unable to speak again, tears now running freely once more.

At this, Dumbledore stepped forwards smoothly and spoke in a voice only Demelza could hear. Harry turned his head away to look at Ginny and Hermione properly. Hermione was struggling hard to control her breathing, and the colour brought to her face by the exercise only barely covered the paleness below. Ginny looked quite weak at the knees: the drained feeling that huge relief sometimes brings. He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. His friends' expressions had somehow made his close escape suddenly feel a whole lot closer.

As Harry took a deep breath, Dumbledore's voice came from behind him. "Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, would you be kind enough to go with Harry to the Hospital Wing? While you all appear in good health, I should like Madam Pomfrey to give you all cursory medical examinations. I fancy, Harry, that you could also benefit from some chocolate. Perhaps, in addition, whilst you are there, you could update Minerva as to the most recent events. I believe she is currently adding her own wards to strengthen the protection there."

Ginny and Hermione both nodded, but Harry's – and out of his sight Demelza's – eyes were drawn back to the conflagration, which finally winked out.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Thanks." Harry said quietly. "But how did you know I was there?"

It was the first thing he'd said since they'd arrived at the Hospital Wing. Explaining in detail to McGonagall about the explosion, and how he had failed to get her colleague out of the room was not something he had had any intention of doing.

"You ran straight past me." Ginny told him. "Flitwick had his back to me because of Hermione, so he didn't see me sneak off. But by the time I'd turned the corner you'd gone, and Sir Cadogan was shouting to the other Portraits that you were sprinting towards Muggle Studies."

"And Hermione saw you go." Harry said in understanding. He gave a small snort of laughter. "And there was I getting annoyed with the way he kept following me around all day."

He leant back in his chair for a quiet few seconds. As incredible as it seemed, chocolate had in fact settled him, or at least, knocked him out of the shock of watching his shield being swept away, and the woman he had tried to protect being encompassed by an inferno.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked point blank.

"I- Well, I couldn't see much after the shield failed." Harry replied quietly, before adding bitterly. "Small mercies. It would have been me too if not for you two."

The prone Ron opened his mouth from the hospital bed. He was still very pale, and moved lethargically. Before he could speak, however, Harry looked at him with an exasperation that somehow made him feel better.

"You just saved virtually the entire fourth year Care of Magical Creatures class, Ron, so don't you dare say anything about not being there."

Redness found its way into Ron's cheeks. "You did- If it weren't for you-"

Harry shut him up by looking at Ginny with an expression of disbelief. "Your brother held back – what? – eighteen, twenty Dementors" he glanced at Ron as if looking for confirmation, but continued before Ron could say anything "with his Patronus long enough for Hagrid's class to get past us, and back to the school, and for the two of them that the Dementor nearly had caught to stagger up to us. And that was on his own! And he's trying to say I deserve more credit for making a ward!"

Ron blushed more deeply. "Yeah, well, if you hadn't protected us with-"

Harry continued speaking over him – Ron's exhaustion making that somewhat easier than usual – the effort to speak normally, chasing the bitter feelings inside him away. At least for now. "Which I couldn't have done if not for you holding them back. And if you try and tell me I have a saving people thing after doing that, I might curse you: you have just as much. Besides," he added, more slowly, and quietly, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, just like I wouldn't if not for Hermione and Ginny. I owe you my life mate."

It felt important to say that. Important that all three of his friends had been told out loud how grateful he was. Whether it was more vital that he had told Ron and Ginny after some of their conversations that year, or that his saying it aloud meant that he had to accept it, despite all his thoughts during the summer of holding his friends at bay, he wasn't completely sure.

"Anytime Harry." Ron said quietly. "That's what we're here for."

He found Ginny's hand squeezing his, and as he looked around with a half smile on his face, he couldn't help but see Hermione swallow, and wipe a tear from an eye.

"We'll always be here Harry." Ginny said softly.

Harry found himself going as red as Ron's ears, and gave a half shrug. "I- ah- Thanks." He suddenly felt remarkably awkward. "So- um- So what now?"

"You don't think Snape was right do you?" Hermione said nervously. "Will Dumbledore have to close the school?"

"He can't!" Ginny burst out automatically.

"If Dumbledore manages to fix whatever needs to be done to the Chamber of Secrets, and figures out how the Dementors got in-" Harry began, not sounding at all convincing to his own ears.

"But he said it might take a long time to repair the wards," Hermione said worriedly, "if he can't guarantee students' safety, the Governors might not give him a choice."

Ron pointed to the door that Professor McGonagall had recently exited and said, almost in resignation, softly. "I think if McGonagall is putting her own wards up, they don't think Hogwarts is safe."

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry stopped as he entered the Great Hall. Thankfully, because he had dropped to the back of the group with Ron and Ginny, he didn't have to suffer the indignity of being bowled over by somebody who was walking behind.

"What?" Ron asked quietly. It was perhaps a testament to how exhausted he still felt that it wasn't a hiss.

Ron, in fact, had been so pale – he had even swayed slightly when he got to his feet as McGonagall entered the common room – that the Gryffindor Head had immediately forbidden him to join the Prefects who took the flanks and rear while she escorted them to the Great Hall. Of course, as he, Harry, and Ginny, had made their way to the rear, where Hermione was, anyway, her demand had little practical effect. Harry was sure McGonagall had noticed, but, because the first couple of years in particular had looked rather less frightened, and more confident, once they saw them – or more probably, him, he thought with slight irritation – taking the van, she had said nothing.

Harry nodded towards the staff table, where a youngish looking man sat – at most thirty – with sleek black hair, a handsome, strong face, and clothes in such pristine condition, that either they had been purchased a couple of minutes ago, or they had been worked upon by House Elves for hours. The gleaming diamond encrusted buttons made either possibility quite likely.

"I think Snape _was_ right." He muttered as they quickly ate back up the ground to the rear of the Gryffindor group once more, which fragmented even as they joined it, as students took their seats.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were already seated, only the Slytherins were missing.

Ginny's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Hermione, however, bit her lip. "You think he is from the Board of Governors." It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "And why else do you think a Board member would be here?"

He fumbled in his pocket as he sat down, closing his right hand around a golden coin, but not pulling it out immediately. Instead, he stared at the double doors opposite him, for the Slytherins had appeared. Seeing both his and Ginny's eyes narrow, Ron and Hermione twisted their necks around to watch also.

Snape, with one of his habitual scornful frowns, had led his house – sorted mainly by age – into the hall. Whilst Gryffindor had placed prefects, and older students in general at the perimeters, meaning the younger students were protected in the centre, the younger students in the Slytherin house, with just one exception, had been abandoned. Malfoy had elbowed himself to a position at Snape's right hand, and not even the seventh year Prefects had risked Snape's wrath by supplanting his favourite student.

Malfoy's infuriating smirk widened even further as he spotted the stranger at the staff table.

In general, either the smirk was mirrored on the faces of those students in their last four years, or else the faces were fastidiously blank; concern broke into the faces of the ranks of the third years, and fear was on the faces of those trailing along at the back of the group. The solitary exception was a smallish group in the middle of the students, where a group headed by Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, as well as a couple of seventh years Harry didn't know, were looking after younger students, primarily brothers and sisters, Harry thought. Zabini's stride had a slight hitch as he caught sight of the stranger, and his usual impassive face turned dark for a fraction of a second. His was the only one, however; Harry was near incredulous that even the fourth years who had just seen one of their number rendered soulless by Voldemort's Dementors looked cocksure.

"Maybe the first and second years are still uncorrupted?" Ron suggested under his breath.

The students made their way towards the Slytherin table, many of the older ones laughing at something Malfoy had said. They took their seats at the end furthest away from the staff table, leaving the younger years to sit at the front. As the last Slytherin sat, the stranger pushed back his chair, and stood.

"I would firstly like to thank you for coming," He began in a smooth voice.

"Not as if we had much choice, is it?" Harry muttered, taking an immediate dislike to the man with his jewel littered white robe.

"I can imagine how you must be feeling after the tragedies the school has suffered today, and if I were in your situation, I am sure a large assembly, and being talked to by a stranger is not what I would want. As some of you know, my name is Zeke Zabini, and I am spokeswizard for this fair school's Board of Governors.

"As such, I want to assure you that, as one, the Board of Governors is furious, not only that these attacks happened, but also that they were _allowed _to happen. We mistakenly believed those who assured us that Hogwarts was the safest place for our children and families to be. We have been proved wrong in the worst possible way. As a result, we have been left with no alternative but to close the school, effective from Saturday morning."

Silence and a sea of horrified faces met this statement – at least from three of the houses. Some of the students on the Slytherin table however had been unable to hide their glee. Malfoy had fixed a phoney expression of mild interest on his face, but, when Harry looked back towards the staff table, only Aravenne appeared to be paying any attention to the students. Many of the teachers were looking at Zabini with expressions of absolute rage, Professor McGonagall among them.

The silence was broken by a disbelieving cry from one of the Gryffindor fourth years who had been attacked by the Dementors. "How can we be safer anywhere other than here?"

A wave of agreement met this, with one of Demelza's friends in Ravenclaw – one of those who had peered back around the corner as the Muggle Studies classroom had been destroyed in fact – shouting out herself: "My house was attacked last summer, but we were lucky! We're safer here!"

Malfoy's voice rung out with – to Harry – blatantly false indignation: "Try telling that to Bartholomew!"

Other Slytherin voices joined his, causing complete verbal bedlam, leading Mr Zabini to shout for quiet. If anyone heard they ignored him and his subsequent yells.

Dumbledore rose gracefully, raised his hand, and said simply, in a clear, but otherwise normal voice: "Silence."

The talking stopped.

"Thank you, Albus." Zabini said, in an almost condescending voice, before Dumbledore could say anything else to his students. He cleared his throat noisily. "As I have already said, that is what we believed ourselves. However, this morning has categorically disproved our trust. Whilst it may be true that few places seem safe in these troubled times, it is the Board's view that – through no fault of his own – Headmaster Dumbledore's eminence both in our society, and in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, causes Hogwarts to be a prime target. Whilst the school appeared impregnable, this was bearable, now that its defences have been breached at least once, and likely twice, we feel that it is unacceptable that our students should be thus risked.

"Let me be rightly understood; the Board of Governors has not decided to close the school indefinitely. It is our position that Hogwarts will be reopened as soon as we are content that the castle is safe, which we shall spare no expense to ensure. Those of you in O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exam years should rest assured that every effort will be made to allow you to resume your studies, as well as compensate for this loss in your studying. I would like nothing more than to be speaking to you all in this very hall in the near future."

He raised his voice over the stirrings of more muttering from the students. "In this time of trouble, what is needed most is unity. Therefore, the Board has decided that any student or staff member found to hinder the evacuation of the school, or compromising its security, shall be expelled, with no exceptions."

Silence reigned across the student populace. Hidden by Ginny to his right, and Seamus to his left, Harry withdrew the golden coin from his pocket, and gently pointed his wand at it.

"So that's why Dumbledore hasn't said anything to stop him." Ron said in disgusted realisation. "If he tries to stop them, he gets fired, and then he can't do anything to help the students. The scum!"

Zeke Zabini seemed to decide that this was a good time to make his escape: "If you will excuse me, I have much work to do in order to try to reopen the school as soon as possible. Good evening."

He gave a cursory nod to the students, and an even more perfunctory one to the staff, and then marched purposefully out the double doors, whose slam punctuated the deathly silence.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione hissed, as she felt the warm glow in her pocket.

"I'd have thought that was obvious." He muttered in reply.

"And just how is everyone going to get to the Room of Requirement with all the added security?"

"Easy." Harry replied mulishly. "There are prefects from every house in the DA. If anyone doesn't come with them from their house, then I send them back to get them."

No-one answered him, for Dumbledore had risen from his seat once more. He spoke quietly, with no sign other than his words themselves of his dissatisfaction. "As Headmaster, I have no power to gainsay the Board, and thus, I need hardly add, against my wishes, the Board's demands shall be carried out to the letter. The school term shall be temporarily suspended the day after tomorrow. Rest assured that I and my staff shall do all in our power to guarantee your safety wherever and whenever it is in our power to do so, which is by no means limited to your time in Hogwarts. I have had occasion in the past to say that help shall always be given from Hogwarts to those who ask for it. I pledge this once more, to each and every one of you."

Rather than looking in the direction of a Harry hidden under an Invisibility Cloak beside Ron, this time Dumbledore's gaze took in the entire school, pausing at the Slytherin table.


	36. d3 x c2

_A/N:__ I'm going to keep Author's Notes to an absolute minimum from now on, to not disturb the flow of the story. There will be Author's Notes at the end of the story, because there's something that I want to address as regards something that happens in these coming chapters, and you'll quite likely guess it when you see it. So if something strikes you, an answer may well be coming without you needing to ask a question!_

_Finally, you may be looking at the title of the chapter, and be thinking: "What the?". Of course, if you have knowledge of a particular something, then it's conceivable some of you have seen it and immediately thought "Aha, I see!", but for those that haven't, if you are particularly observant when reading this chapter, it should all make sense. If you still don't get it, I'll leave a hint in the next chapter, and I'll explain it in my final Author's Notes. It almost goes without saying, this is my favourite chapter title I've ever come up with. If you 'get it', then award yourself a metaphorical gold star! :)_

* * *

**Chapter 36: d3 x c2+**

"Okay, I guess this is going to be our last meeting for a bit." Harry started. "Chances are it's Voldemort or his Death Eaters who've got the Board of Governors to close the school – maybe it's some of Malfoy's dad's friends." Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Hogwarts is going to be closed until Dumbledore can get it opened again."

"But we're hardly _safe_ here, are we?"

Harry mentally rolled his eyes. He had tried to make a bet with Ron that Zacharias Smith would be first to raise doubts. For some reason, Ron chose not to take him up on the wager.

"We aren't safe anywhere." Dean, of all people, growled the answer.

"That's the reason we thought we needed Harry to teach us, remember?" Cho added tartly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted an amused and knowing expression on Hermione's face. He looked away before he risked the faintest blush. It was true – she probably _had_ had a different reason at the time.

"But we know that You-Know-Who can get through the wards, don't we? What's to stop him doing it again, and killing more people?" Zacharias persisted.

Harry quickly conjured a whistle, which he blew shrilly to quell the burst of noise that statement provoked, but it was Susan Bones who put the resultant silence to use, as she spoke up in her soft voice.

"Zack, Professor Dumbledore helped put the wards up protecting my house, and they've worked so far, but if V- Vol- Vol-" She inhaled, and set herself, "if Voldemort can get through Hogwarts' wards, then he can get through ours. At least if we're in Hogwarts we have more people who can help us."

Before Zacharias could do anything other than glare at his fellow Hufflepuff, Harry managed to regain the floor. "Professor Dumbledore knows how the Death Eater who set the explosive curse got in. He'll be able to stop it happening again."

Many of the DA members exchanged looks at this, but Zacharias belligerently carried on. "How can you be su-"

"Because they used the Chamber of Secrets to get in, and Professor Dumbledore didn't realise that that wasn't protected by Hogwarts' wards."

Many of the DA looked away at the reference to Harry's second year, and the Heir of Slytherin. Harry had stopped being bothered by what had happened then, a long time ago. Or, at the very least, he was used to it by now.

"Has he stopped the Dementors?" Dennis Creevey piped up nervously. "Did they come through the Chamber of Secrets too?"

"I don't know." Harry admitted honestly. "I don't even know if he's worked out how they got in, but I think they came through the Forbidden Forest."

"Isn't it obvious?" Luna spoke up from a corner. She had spent the meeting so far doing something with her wand which had turned the ground before her into a picture made from pebbles. Harry had noticed her supposed lack of attention, but never for one second had he believed she wasn't listening. "Hogwarts must have thought they were animals."

"Dementors are animals." Hermione pointed out, and it didn't look like she would have been the only one to do so.

"Very intelligent for animals, aren't they?" Luna replied, completely unconcerned. "Or do you think centaurs or house-elves are just animals too?"

Harry was hard pressed to prevent a laugh, but somehow managed it, for he knew he had better head off Hermione's reply.

"Look: that's not why I called the meeting. Dumbledore will deal with it. The thing is, as far as I'm concerned, it's easier for Voldemort to pick us off one by one, than as a group. And it's far easier to end up trapped in a small area instead of a big one. Personally, I'd rather we could all stay here. But that's not important right now. What is important is that the school _is_ going to be closed. With Voldemort's threats over the last weeks, he'd be making a big statement if he were to attack us when we leave Hogwarts protection, so chances are he will."

The silence would have caused the smallest of dropped pins to boom in echo.

"Then we'll fight." Seamus said bullishly.

Harry smiled slightly. He had known someone would say that.

"Exactly. That's why I called this meeting. Because, when Hogwarts is reopened, and trust me, it's going to be, I want everyone to be at the next one. This _is _life or death."

D- D'you think we're good enough to fight Death Eaters." Colin Creevey asked in a nervous squeak which summed up the general feeling in the room.

Harry found his eyes drawn towards Neville and Luna. "Yes." He answered simply. "I saw that much a year ago. And we all know more from this year too. Aravenne has been about as helpful as Umbridge was a cow."

The tension eased slightly as there was muttered agreement to the last statement. It almost felt like a dirty trick, for the mention of how useless Umbridge was always lightened the mood.

"The thing is, that if we do end up fighting Death Eaters, and maybe that won't happen tomorrow, but it will sometime, it isn't like Aravenne's duels. In them, if you try something and it doesn't work, you might lose the duel. If that happens against Death Eaters, you might lose your life." Harry looked at them each in turn before adding quietly. "Or worse."

He had expected someone, even if it was only Zacharias Smith, to disagree that anything could be worse than death, but the DA was as silent as statues. Not one single member was the least bit blasé about what might lie ahead.

_Bye-Bye Childhood._

"But we have to fight!" Neville protested eventually.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't." Harry inserted quickly. "What I'm saying, is try not to take risks, stick to what you're good at. Some of us are really good at improvising on the spot, some make fantastic wards, some are really quick. The Muggles have a phrase: 'If it aint broke, don't fix it'. We all know what we're good at: you don't need me to tell you, although I will if you want me to. Yes, Death Eaters are older than us, and have left Hogwarts or whatever schools they were at, but we have a couple of advantages they don't.

"I've ended up fighting Death Eaters a few times this year, and they always seem to think that because I'm a student, they'll easily beat me. Trust me, it's way easier to beat someone if they underestimate you.

"But I guess the biggest advantage…" Harry held the eyes of the DA members with the least confidence: Neville, the Creevey Brothers, even Susan Bones, who had sold herself short in the duelling tournament. He shrugged, and grinned. "Well, to be honest: you're much better duellers than most of them."

He took a deep breath. "But there's two main things I wanted to say to you. Two things I've learned this year myself." He paused slightly before launching into it. "You can't do anything if you're badly injured or stunned. You have to look after your own safety as much as anyone's. I guess some of you might already know this, but sometimes there _is_ nothing you can do, or else you have to wait before you can do anything. Even if someone is being tortured in front of your eyes, sometimes acting quickly ruins the only chance you have to make a difference. Sometimes acting too early means that people are killed. Sometimes acting at all means that you die, or are tortured too. Not instead of; as well as."

He swallowed, not caring that the gesture could be seen, if anything, it would make the point all the stronger. He vividly remembered Voldemort putting Dumbledore under the Cruciatus curse, and knowing he had had to concentrate on getting the casting of the Unforgivable as perfect as possible in order to give him the best chance of killing the Dark Lord.

"Trust me, it hurts, it makes you want to throw up, it makes you want to scream, or yell, or use every spell you can think of, but if you do anything, the only thing you'll succeed at is killing yourself. And deep down, you'll know it. I can't tell you how you'll react if you ever find it happens, but the one thing you have to remember to do, is to keep yourself alive." He found himself looking at the Gryffindors.

"It isn't cowardice." He continued strongly, shaking his head. "In some ways it is being as brave as you can, because everything is telling you to help, even when you can't. It takes guts to tough it out, and not act before your best chance.

"The second thing is just as important." He quietened his voice slightly, trying to somehow ease the burden of what he had to say. "Look, if you fight, you might kill someone. It sounds a bit unreal saying that, I know, but no matter what spells you use, you may end up killing someone. You need to know that. It's not important what spells you cast, even something as simple as the Tarantallegra charm can kill. It might mean they set off a curse someone has set as a trap, it might mean they overbalance off a cliff, or fall into a lake, or a hundred other things. I guess I don't need to tell you that a lot of the spells Aravenne taught us will kill outright if they aren't blocked or shielded, but sometimes all these duels with the Abramites can make you forget.

"It's different to seeing someone else die, it's different to seeing someone else kill someone. I can't tell you what you'll feel like. It will affect you in some way, and until you've actually experienced it, you won't know how. Don't assume that you will be able to carry on as you did before. Your adrenaline might keep you going, or you might freeze completely. The best thing you can do is keep yourself in as safe a position as possible, just in case.

"I guess that's what I want to say: never do anything without caring about your own safety. Anything can happen, and some things you can't prepare for unless you've experienced them first. And if you die while saving someone, then you might have saved them, but you can't help anyone else. If you die, then no matter what, you've failed."

* * *

X

* * *

Many of the students looked ill as they left the Thestral driven carriages. How much of it was owing to them being able to see the horses that pulled each one, and how much was down to sheer terror as regards what awaited them, Harry had no idea. A group of sixth and seventh years, along with a few students in the lower years, followed Snape off to one side, where they would be allowed to Apparate home. The DA weren't the only people who were able to apparate, but didn't, but there were only a sprinkling of Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs there who chose that. The lack of Ravenclaws in that number showed what the sensible option was. Some students, like Blaise Zabini, side-along apparated with their brother or sister, but as they would be prevented from returning, if they had more than one sibling, many were forced to journey to London with the rest of the school.

Harry looked down at the cage in his hand, ignoring the Aurors who had the station surrounded. It was empty. Hagrid had promised Harry that he would do everything he could to help Hedwig, but, as of yet, it seemed she was destined to remain almost feral. He would never trust the notes again: just because that last one had been helpful – even been helpful twice – didn't mean that they were going to work against Voldemort.

"She'll be okay, Harry." Ginny said quietly from his side.

Harry inhaled and nodded, and tried to put Hedwig out of his mind for now. "Hope so. Let's go; otherwise no-one will board the train."

The closer the students got to the train, the slower they seemed to get, as if boarding the train was itself a dangerous task. The four of them strode forwards to the closest carriage, soon outstripping the rest, Hermione and Ron levitating the trunks between them. There was absolute quiet, as if much of the student population expected the train to explode as Harry extended his hand to the door. He allowed the other three to enter before him, and refused to look backwards as he followed them in. He had a feeling that if they hadn't made the first move to the train, the teachers would have had to force the students on.

"Now we wait." Ron sighed, settling back on his seat as Neville and Luna entered the compartment.

Neville caught the comment, and Harry could see the nerves playing over his face.

"Want a hand, Nev?" He asked, forcing his voice to casualness.

"Thanks." He said quietly, taking one end of the trunk so that they could lift it up into storage, but still glancing around anxiously.

"I don't get it." Neville said eventually, breaking the silence that they had travelled in for the last half an hour. Harry had wanted to get a conversation going, primarily to take Neville's mind off what was to come – but they could all probably do with it. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything which would actually accomplish it.

"Get what?" Ron prompted, looking away from the window.

"Well, why are we going by the train?" Neville asked nervously. "I mean, like Harry said this morning, isn't it obvious that You-Know-Who is going to attack? Couldn't we have Portkeyed or something? I mean, everyone with Apparition licenses were allowed to Apparate from Hogsmeade, weren't they?"

Harry found himself glancing at the door before answering. He had got into the habit of doing that every so often, ever since he had realised that the images flying past the windows were illusions, in order to prevent anyone aboard the Hogwarts Express from letting Voldemort know where exactly they were. The flip side of that, was that if Death Eaters were somehow on board, the first they would know would be either from screams on the train, or their bursting through the door.

The pause allowed Ron to answer first. "We couldn't Portkey from Hogwarts. If there were any Death Eaters in the castle they might have put charms up to track how they got through the wards at both ends: Hogwarts and where we were going."

"Oh." Neville replied, and paused before continuing. "But surely we could have gone from Hogsmeade, right?"

"Still too big a risk." Harry answered with a shrug; they had debated it all last night, after everyone else had gone to bed. "I mean, Hogsmeade's been nearly abandoned since the last attack: it would be easy for Death Eaters to have the same kind of tracking spells there too. It's fine for people who Apparate, because their wards would recognise them, and let them in without having to do anything, but how many of us could make our own Portkeys? If Dumbledore had made them, he'd have had to put charms on to get them through the wards."

After a short pause, Harry continued. "Anyway, the charms around the Hogwarts Express and Platform Nine and Three Quarters are very powerful, so even if Voldemort knows where we are going, it's not exactly easy for him."

"But You-Know Who got past-"

"Hogwarts is far bigger," Luna said serenely, without looking up from the book she had been reading since she entered the compartment, "it is much easier to make a ward if it's only small. That's why Atlantis sank: they relied too much on the wards around it." She added as an afterthought.

Neville looked at her in surprise, and then at Harry for confirmation. The 'Luna's right' that had been on his lips had fled. He hadn't realised that Atlantis was also a Wizarding myth. If anything he had half expected Atlantis to have been something to do with the Wizarding world that really happened, if slightly differently. Neville's confusion seemed to suggest he wasn't being harsh on Luna, too.

"Ah… Yeah." He said at last. "Anyway, the reason the Hogwarts Express began in the first place was to keep Hogwarts and the students safe from enemies. There are charms on it to prevent tracking by anyone – well, unless they are meant to be going to or from Hogwarts, anyway; charms to prevent Muggles seeing it, like with the Knight Bus; charms to stop people boarding who shouldn't and that sort of thing."

That was about as far as he had read in 'Hogwarts: A History' in six years. Hermione had been keen to name each charm mentioned last night, but one incantation had run into another, and Harry was sure that there would be plenty of spells on the train not mentioned in the book anyway.

Hermione leapt into the discussion happily, to name them all once again, which allowed Harry to allow his mind to wander slightly. Chances were high that Ron or Ginny were doing something similar. Ron gave him a look and rolled his eyes, while Ginny watched the illusions which were flying past the window. She shivered slightly, and Harry wondered what she had thought of to cause it. _Merlin __knows __there __were __enough __things __about __the __oncoming __fight __that __might._

He glanced around the compartment again. They were all – with the exception of Luna – apt to make quick, jerky movements, and start at sudden sounds. His heart went out to the first years in the train, surely expecting a calamity at any moment, and knowing that they hadn't a chance of protecting themselves. It was hard enough for him, and regardless of whatever the Prophecy said, or any of the hype around him, he _had_ fought Death Eaters, and not only survived, but wounded, captured, and even killed some of them. And, of course, he had faced Voldemort and not only lived, but hurt him too.

On the third pass of the compartment, his eyes fell upon his trunk, and he grinned as an idea came to him that might just help take Neville's mind off things.

* * *

X

* * *

"Pawn d3 takes c2, check."

When Harry suggested a game, Ron had quickly obliged, and Harry set his chess pieces to a Quidditch side, thinking that as interesting as the pieces' duels with wands could be, using them might negate the effort to push the coming confrontation into the background. It hadn't stopped him remaining alert however, and he was pretty sure Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were also rather more observant than usual.

Harry studied the board for a while, and then shook his head in disgust. "Whatever I do you take my queen, and the most I get is a bishop."

Ron grinned. "And if you do that, I mate you."

Ron had already beaten him once, and he rarely claimed a checkmate he didn't follow through with. Harry stared at the pieces, trying to work out what Ron was threatening next.

He shook his head. "I guess you probably will. Knight takes c2."

Martin Morrison, the Falmouth Falcons Keeper, took Ron's Bludger, ducking out of its way as it flew at him, and then pounding it downwards with his broom, where it made a small crater in the board, and then rolled once, before lying immobile. Morrison took out his wand, waved it, and the crater filled itself in.

"Okay, Bishop takes e3."

"You do realise that this is the only way the Chudley Cannons ever win anything!" Harry said in disgust as his queen (the Seeker) plummeted to the ground dramatically, and belatedly realising that after Ron's next move he'd be in check from too many places to stop it. "Okay! I resign. You've beaten me enough for one day."

The pieces took themselves back to their box, carrying the fallen with them, while Neville shook his head, as he had countless times before, in complete admiration.

"I can't get over the fact you and your brothers actually _made_ this Ron. It's incredible!"

There was a huge grin on his face as he watched Harry's players levitate their injured team-mates into their correct places, and Harry took the opportunity to cast a tense glance at the door once more.

"Yup." Ron said unabashedly.

Harry and Ginny had never found out how much of the actual magic he had done, as opposed to features he had thought up. If Hermione knew she hadn't told them. Although, to be fair to him, the twins wouldn't have agreed to give him any of the profits once they began to roll them out commercially if he hadn't actually been a help in some way. Harry stood up to put the box back in storage while Ron continued.

"Fred and George are selling the Quidditch teams at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes if you want one. They have Aurors and Death Eaters too, but that's more of a trick one, cos the Death Eaters always lose. The other ones – the ones where the pieces duel with wands – are still really expensive… we haven't figured out an easy way to mass produce them. Although they're still only doing mail order at the moment anyway, just while they rebuild the store."

"I'll ask Gran." Neville said eagerly, still beaming. "She might get it for me on my birthday."

"Well," Ron began, "I could s-"

_BANG!_

The explosion shook the train, which swayed violently, slamming Harry into the side of the train, where he hit Ginny – who yelped with pain – and rolled off to hit the carriage wall; the chess box flew out of his hands, sending the chess pieces everywhere, and the lights flickered off. Ron swore colourfully, and three balls of light came on as one as Hermione, Neville, and Luna rose from their seats and lit the tips of their wand.

Harry sprang to his feet, feeling the unaccustomed weight of the Graphorn hide vest he had on beneath his Muggle clothes, but ignoring it, and looked around, as Ron and Ginny also stood, wands in a ready position. He felt a stab of pride as he took in the calm and collected DA members, whilst all around them they could hear screams and yells from other compartments, and other students. He felt sure that Neville more than anyone in the DA wouldn't have had such a focused look in his eyes before fifth year. He withdrew his wand quickly, levelling it at the door.

He forced his breathing to slow, and his body to relax slightly, as the speed of his senses, and the beating of his heart were caught up by his cognitive functions. "We wouldn't still be moving if we were in trouble. Whatever Voldemort tried, if he tried anything, it didn't work."

Neville nodded, and sat back down on the edge of his seat, willing to trust Harry's judgement implicitly. The other four people in the carriage exchanged looks with each other and Harry, and then sat more slowly as Harry put his wand away once more.

"Pack." Harry muttered quietly, before retaking his seat. "We're okay for the moment anyway." He added.

The scattered chess pieces once more picked themselves up, and made their way back into the box.

McGonagall's voice sounded above them, attempting to calm the train down, and reassure the students, although even her magnified voice was difficult to make out.

Harry thought quickly. There were three likely possibilities raised by any attempted attack on the Hogwarts Express. Voldemort may have defeated some of the enchantments that Hermione had named earlier, and found whereabouts in the country they were now travelling. The second choice was that someone who had been involved in creating whatever defensive plans had been made to deal with an attack was either a Death Eater, or had been persuaded one way or another to talk. The third possibility, of course, was that either a student or a teacher had pierced the illusions which Ginny was now watching again, and had let Voldemort know where they were. And if any of these hit the nail on the head, the failed attack was only the beginning.

Harry stood up, feeling a little restless, and wanting to get rid of some of the nervous energy he was trying to hide. "I'm just going to have a look around." Ron nodded at him. "Maybe if I see one of the teachers I can find out what just happened and maybe how much longer until we arrive." He paused before opening the door. "If anyone comes in, try and keep them calm, the last thing we need is for everybody to panic throughout the train. If you see any of the DA, get them to do the same too."

As Harry opened the door, sounds of pandemonium blasted through. He gave his friends another nod, and stepped through. Either side of him people were yelling, and trying to push themselves forward towards the Prefects car, which the teachers had commandeered. Two people pushed past him before he had a chance to even see who they were, and the third bodily fell into him, bouncing back.

Harry turned to the first year, and offered him a hand up, shaking his head. The boys lips moved, but Harry couldn't hear a word. Harry shook his head once more in disgust. Until someone could shut this crowd up, the bedlam would continue.

"Quiet!" He roared, as loudly as he could.

Gradually the noise diminished, as the first person heard him, and turned, then, seeing who it was, elbowed the people next to them. It finished in a rush as people suddenly realised that the only screams and yells they could hear came from other carriages.

"Thank you." Harry said, trying to quell any irritation in his voice. He had been surprised just how quickly everyone had, in fact, shut up. _The __wonder __of __being __a __sixth __year __Harry __Potter, __as __opposed __to __a __first, __second, __third __or __fourth_, he supposed.

"Look." He began, firmly. "We are in no danger at the moment. The train is still moving: that means that it isn't damaged, and that there aren't any Death Eaters, or Dementors, or any other creature that helps Voldemort anywhere near us." He suddenly noticed that Professor McGonagall's magnified voice had stopped, and looked to his other side, where more quietened people stood shoulder to shoulder in a packed aisle. "I'm sure teachers or prefects will be coming around to make sure everyone is alright soon, that is probably what Professor McGonagall has been trying to say."

He inwardly shook his head, as a few of the students, mainly first to third years, with the occasional fourth, looked rather bewildered, as if they had not even been aware that McGonagall had been saying anything in a magically amplified voice.

"Trust me," He continued, "we're fine for the moment. Go back to your carriages and wait for the teachers." No-one moved. Harry cast around for something to say which might quell the frightened faces. "Do you remember what Professor Aravenne has taught us about dangerous situations?" A few of the faces he scanned nodded, but most had a distinct lack of comprehension. "'The one thing that makes a dangerous situation even more dangerous, is panic.'" Harry paraphrased horribly from a very early class. "Think about it, if everyone is yelling, or screaming, and running around the place, then no-one knows where anyone else is, or where any danger might be, or can do anything to help defend themselves."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a door at the end of the carriage open, and breathed a sigh of relief. Professor McGonagall walked through it.

He caught a look of surprise on her face at the relative quiet, which she quickly disguised, before barking: "I want everyone back to their compartments. All is perfectly safe at the moment. I will explain what is happening to each compartment separately."

There was a collective jump from the students as they heard her voice, and Harry worked hard to prevent a grin, as they looked around, glancing at him once more, and slowly filed away.

"And what exactly had you to say, Mr Potter?" She began, watching him from the doorway she had just walked through.

Harry was slightly surprised at the strict tone in her voice, and shrugged, shaking his head as he moved forwards to meet her. "I just told them that if we were in danger we wouldn't still be moving, and tried to get them to stop panicking. I think I said something like: a teacher would probably be coming round to make sure everyone was fine."

McGonagall's narrowed eyes relaxed slightly as he came to a halt in front of her, and she nodded. "Very well, thank you Potter."

Before she could move on, Harry asked the question. "What did happen, Professor?"

McGonagall studied him, and picked her words carefully. "There was an attempt to… sabotage… the track. The Hogwarts Express' charms defeated it." She saw Harry open his mouth once more, and spoke in a suddenly sharp voice, "Mr Potter, you are well aware that we may be in danger in the coming few hours. You are a senior member of my house, and as such, I expect you to behave impeccably, following any instructions given to you from anybody in a position of authority. Is that clear?"

"The Ministry are going to be there then?" Harry asked immediately, "But how do we know that Voldemort hasn't got spies there?"

McGonagall winced at the sound of Voldemort's name, and closed her eyes briefly as if searching for patience. "I said is that clear, Mr Potter?"

Harry hesitated slightly, and glanced away, at the illusions passing the window beside the area that was meant to be used for baggage, and that yet never was. It still got under his skin that he was expected to mindlessly follow orders when he had such a huge part to play in the war against Voldemort.

"It is Ma'am." He said hastily, as he caught the expression on McGonagall's face as he looked back. "But" he continued immediately, "some of us will want to help, Professor. It's our lives and our friends' lives at risk as much as anyone else's."

"This is why, Mr Potter," McGonagall said slowly, temper barely hidden by the controlled words, and voice rising slightly to allow for a tapping noise which had just started up, "I expect you to follow any orders given to you. I can assure you that the first objective of those of us here to safeguard the safety of Hogwarts' students, is to do just that."

Harry bit his tongue. Everyone would be affected by the prospect of what was to come, not just the students. He should have recognised that immediately he had seen McGonagall tense at the fact the younger years had listened to him. It was too easy to see the Hogwarts Professors as in constant control, because that was how they always had to appear in front of the students. Although he had certainly seen Aravenne lose control once.

The tapping noise began to grow more insistent, into more of a knock, and Harry looked to the side to see where it was coming from. The illusions of fields and trees continued to pass the window, but there was no doubt that the sound was coming from there.

His wand was in his hand before he had even thought.

"Stand back, Potter." McGonagall said quietly. He noticed that she also had her wand out.

She said a few words under her breath, and Harry felt the rise in electricity he had come to associate with strong magic being used. The sound of doors locking boomed out as one voice, causing Harry to start, until a glance at the Gryffindor Head of House showed that she had been the one responsible for it. Either none of the compartments' inhabitants had realised what had happened, or else all sound was also blocked from entering the passageway.

"Stand back, Mr Potter." McGonagall repeated, rather urgently.

Rather than argue, he took a couple of paces backwards, so that his back was nearly against the other side of the train. The illusions dropped, revealing a tall, rocky cliff-face but nothing out of the ordinary.

The knocking sound came again, with no movement to suggest what was making the noise, much louder than before, as though the illusory charms had deadened the sound somehow.

Light shot out from Professor McGonagall's wand, and struck the window pane, ripples of blue playing across the surface, and vanishing as the waves struck the metallic insides of the train itself. A second beam of light, and a third hit the glass, but the knocking sound didn't stop. If anything, it was louder.

"Should… Should I open it, Professor?" Harry asked quietly, fighting the tension in his voice.

"No." His teacher replied slowly, after a slight pause.

"But if it were Voldemort, he'd hardly be knocking, would he?" The words burst out of Harry's mouth before he'd completely made up his mind to say them.

He bit his tongue immediately, and chanced a glance to the side, to see how McGonagall had taken his impertinence. If possible, she had tensed even more, and her facial features were as hard as stone. As her nostrils flared, he began to fear the worst, but she made no reply as the knocking reached an uncomfortably loud level. Instead, after a couple of careful breaths, she shifted her body position slightly, wand held in a tighter grip, and spoke in a quiet voice, which she was obviously making an effort to control.

"Very well. Open it, Potter." Harry took a couple of steps forward, but before he could slide it open, McGonagall stopped him. "From the side."

Harry fiddled with the catch, and forced it upwards, sliding it with his hand, and keeping the rest of his body out of McGonagall's line of fire.

A crumpled up piece of paper flew through the open window, and the knocking abruptly stopped, as if a switch had been pressed. A few seconds later, Harry slammed the window shut with a loud bang.

"Do not touch it!" McGonagall's voice rang out sharply.

Harry said nothing, but merely stared at the piece of paper, feeling slightly sick as he did so.

"There are only five people who should be capable of piercing the spells around this train, Potter, and none of them would have a need to breach them like this. Now, I am going to perform some protective charms before either of us even considers approaching it. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded.

The seconds ticked by agonisingly as Gryffindor's Head of House performed her spells. The nauseating feeling caused by what Harry suspected the paper to be, and what it might say, was joined by a constricting sense of tension, and the feeling of his own pulse beating rhythmically in his chest.

"Very slowly, I want you to bend down, and pick up the note." Harry glanced at the Professor, whose wand remained pointing directly at the ball of crumpled paper, and who nodded slowly.

Harry did so gradually, shooting looks at her as he did. His fingers dug into the crumpled ball, and flattened it out. As he noticed the typewritten letters, he could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat.

"Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, "Are you alright?"

To his annoyance, Harry noticed his hand was trembling slightly. It stopped immediately. "It's another one of the notes." He replied quietly.

_His aim is the Scrivenings._

"I think I had better take that note, Mr Potter. Albus must see it." McGonagall said gently.

"I'll take it." Harry replied immediately. "If it's another of these notes that have been sent to me-"

"You will not." The words came out sharply, and Professor McGonagall seemed as surprised by it as Harry. She took a deep breath, and spoke more kindly. "If you were to come too close to the carriages the staff are travelling in, you would be marked by the wards. We cannot risk you being impacted by some of the spells there, do you understand?"

Harry knew his confused face would show that he didn't.

Professor McGonagall gave a slight exhalation, and then continued gently, "Some of the spells may affect your reflexes, your balance, and even your cognitive functions. If this happened, you would be disadvantaged in any situation you were forced to duel in. That is too high a risk, do you understand?"

"Oh." Harry said, and paused for a few seconds. He shook his head to clear it, and then nodded and muttered the reply, the nasty feeling in his stomach settling like a lead weight. "Yeah."

_So is the writer helping, or not?_

"Thank you, Potter." McGonagall said, sounding quite like her normal self. "If Albus wishes to inform you of his thoughts, he will."

Her face contorted in concentration, and Harry felt the electricity in the air for the second time. His ears popped, and suddenly the same illusions were passing the window once more.

"Very well." Harry's Head of House said, "I trust you will remember what I said." She walked back through the door, either forgetting about the students she had promised to inform of the situation, or else willing to delegate that responsibility to another teacher.

"You've been a while." Ron said, as Harry opened the door back to the compartment; it was clear that they were oblivious to whatever had happened, which made Harry suppose that the charm had only been lowered around the area where he and Professor McGonagall had been.

Harry looked at the five enquiring faces, and cursed internally. _How __exactly __could __he __tell __Ron, __Hermione, __and __Ginny __what __had __just __happened?_

"Um." Harry said, playing for time. "Ah – I was asked to pass a message on to a teacher."

Neville looked confused, and Harry couldn't read the expression on Luna's face, but each of the other three had successfully deciphered what he had said.

* * *

X

* * *

"Hogwarts students over here please!" It was a loud, reedy voice, which, thanks to the Sonorus charm, was a little painful on the ears.

Harry glanced around. The man speaking was tall and rather spindly, with a pair of glasses that made him look a little like a confused owl. Behind him was Rufus Scrimgeour himself, along with an entourage of fellow Ministry officials. The Head of Aurors, Arum Parson, was wandering the platform, critically examining the large group of Aurors that had been assigned for the students' safety, and whatever charms had been put in place. There was a spattering of people present with the balaclavas Harry and the others had worn that night they had gone to Hogsmeade with Dumbledore and Snape; other Order members, like Mad-Eye, were so well known as being associates of Dumbledore that they didn't bother with the disguise. As if Mad-Eye could have hidden the wooden leg, anyway.

"Hogwarts students over here please!" The man repeated. "I have an announcement to make regarding the procedures that have been put in place for you to go home safely!"

"Are we going, then?" Neville asked from his side.

Harry wished that Neville and Luna would go, and give him a chance to explain his earlier comment to his three closest friends. Ron, rather surprisingly, was shooting him rather less worried glances than the others, but he couldn't help but feel that the way Hermione and Ginny kept looking at him was screaming out to Neville and Luna that something was going on.

Harry shrugged. "I guess so."

He glanced around again as he slowly led the way to the Ministry employee. Dumbledore, and the four Heads of Houses were making their way towards Scrimgeour, and Harry noticed a lot of the Aurors turning to make respectful gestures to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Scrimgeour seemed to deal with it better than Fudge had however; he didn't appear bothered in the slightest. Most of the Aurors were based around the archway to Muggle King's Cross, but yet a respectful distance away. The wizened old guard who usually made sure that the witches and wizards went through to Muggle London without creating a scene was nowhere to be seen. Harry imagined that there were many Aurors the other side of the magical passageway too. In front of the Aurors however, were two men in casual clothing. One of them, rather short, and bald, was in jeans and a magical jacket which had a sentence moving across it from left to right which Harry couldn't read from that distance. The other man was tall, with tightly cropped flaming red hair, and a dragon hide leather jacket which Harry recognised immediately.

"What's Bill doing here?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"The Board of Governors must be paying Gringotts to put protective wards up." Hermione surmised.

"But I thought Harry said that it was because of Malfoy's dad that the school was closed." Neville said in surprise.

"Well," Harry answered immediately, "all I meant was that Voldemort got someone to push it through. It doesn't mean some of the Board of Governors don't think they're doing the right thing, or don't want to keep us safe. Of course, they probably think that they'd be blamed if anyone else died at Hogwarts."

"If I could have your attention please!" No-one was really talking in anything more than a nervous whisper, but the Ministry employee was obviously just as jumpy as anyone else. "My name is ah-" he coughed, and tried again, "My name is Matthias Brown, and I am the deputy head of the Ministry's Department of Magical Transport. As the Ministry are supremely concerned with the welfare of its youth-"

"Oh get on with it." Harry muttered in irritation; hand closed tightly on his wand, and continuing to glance around.

Many defensive positions had been constructed on the platform, all pointing towards the entrance to Muggle London, and all looking as if they had merely grown from the ground of the platform. They were semi circular in nature, so that whoever was the trainwards side had shelter from both front and sides, and yet anyone the other side would be vulnerable to fire from both the left and right. Harry's sweep of the platform stopped as he noticed the Auror named Dawlish in deep conversation with Arum Parsons about something. Harry was painfully reminded of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had come to Hogwarts with Dawlish when Fudge had attempted to arrest Dumbledore. They would never see Kingsley again.

"-will call out the name of each student to pass through to the Muggle side in each group, starting with the youngest years, and their siblings."

"And where's the protection the other side?" Someone gasped from beside Harry, and he shook his head to clear it. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on people who weren't here. After the fight, yes, but not when Voldemort might attack at any time.

"Surely they're just asking for Voldemort to attack on the other side!" Neville hissed in shock, looking, as always, towards Harry for an answer.

Hermione was looking pale.

It was Ron who answered in a quiet voice. "The Minister's calling You-Know-Who's bluff about attacking in Muggle areas."

"Voldemort doesn't often bluff, Ron." Hermione said in a slightly strangled voice.

"Think about it." Ron reasoned. "If he were to launch an attack of that scale in an area with so many Muggles, then he's basically just told them that Magic exists, which Witches and Wizards have spent the last how many centuries trying to stop. Every Wizarding country would be at risk: he'd have the whole world after him."

"And if Voldemort does attack…" Hermione trailed off, looking pale.

"He won't attack the Muggles, Hermione." Ron said, in a reassuring tone. "You-Know-Who's a maniac, but that would just be thick."

"…Methuselah and Zacharias Smith, Alan, Marie and Alumyna Terry, if you could follow the two Aurors beside me please to the exit." The Ministry employee's voice rose even higher to override the muttering of voices that had begun as the first names were called out, and a group of first years and siblings slowly moved forward to join their escorts.

Zacharias Smith was looking around frantically, as though trying to make sure that Harry knew he had been asked to go, rather than refusing to stay to fight. It surprised Harry slightly, for he had assumed – obviously harshly – that Zacharias would have been more than happy to put himself out of the firing line. He watched him draw his wand, in a slightly trembling hand, and noted that neither of the Aurors, or any other Ministry official moved to stop him. It seemed everyone knew what was coming.

Harry found himself moving his own wand to plain view; it was silly to keep it hidden when he might need it at any time. The action was mirrored, not only by the five people standing with him, but also by most of the rest of the students – and all of the DA. At the back of the group, Susan Bones was reassuring a young second year, and Harry spotted Ernie MacMillan in deep discussion with some of the other Hufflepuff prefects. Dean looked almost frighteningly intense, and he brushed Seamus' hand off his shoulder. Harry felt an unpleasant stab of foreboding.

A nudge from Ginny made him look away. Tonks was walking towards them with an attempt at a serious expression upon her face, but Harry knew her too well by now to miss the irrepressible humour that was trying to make its way to the surface, even in the current climate of nerves. Ginny opened her mouth to greet her, but Tonks pre-empted her.

"Mr Potter?" She began formally. "I'm Auror Tonks. Could you, Miss Granger, and Mr and Miss Weasley come with me please? It will only take a moment or two of your time."

Neville shot Harry a nervous glance, and Harry gave him a slight shrug before answering. "Sure, Auror. Um. Neville, Luna, I guess we'll be back in a bit. Be careful, okay."

"You too, Harry." Neville said quietly.

"Come on Neville," Luna began brightly, "we'll give you time to talk to your friend, Harry."

The five of them shared looks as Luna led Neville away.

"I thought we'd managed that quite well." Tonks said ruefully.

"That's just Luna," Ron said, "no-one has a clue what she's on about most of the time-"

"But sometimes she seems to notice things others don't." Harry interrupted. "What's up, Tonks?"

"I have a message from Dumbledore. He says that there is no need to worry thus far." She looked around. "I take it he must be talking about something other than this however. Fred and George want a word with you four too. They didn't tell me why, and I didn't ask. 'Course, I guess if I had, then I probably shouldn't be telling you to go see them." She grinned. "Come on."

She led them past a couple of Aurors who didn't look at them twice, to where two identically black robed men with blurred features were waiting for them.

"See you later, Tonks." Ginny said, as she turned around.

"Roger. See you in an hour or two when the paperwork's done." Tonks grinned.

"What's up?" Harry asked without preamble.

"Got something for you." George's serious voice replied.

"Here." Fred said quietly, holding out his hand.

In his palm was a small plastic-like black coin. Harry looked at it, and then back at the two blurred faces.

"And that is?" Ron asked.

"This," George resumed, picking up the coin like shape, "is one of our Whispering Wires. To use it, just tap it with your wand, and put it in your ear. It'll automatically fit in properly, and connect to who's listening in to them all at home."

"Only – er – don't use it unless you really have to." Fred told them earnestly. "We're not exactly meant to give them out at all without Dumbledore's permission."

"Yeah, it was a real pain having to find a way around all of our protective charms."

"Sometimes our brilliance surprises even us." Fred said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice, even if he couldn't see it.

"Besides, Mum is one of the ones doing the listening, so you probably don't want to do it anyway." George told them.

"But look," Fred told Harry, pressing it into his hand, "take it, and good luck."

"And we'll see you later." George added. "We'd better go."

Harry and the others retook their places at the rear of the diminishing group, which had lost all of its first years, half of its second, and all of their siblings.

A clap of thunder split the air, and everyone apart from a couple of Aurors, and both the cursebreakers, looked up reflexively. The man calling out the names of the students stopped mid-name, and, after five seconds of silence, a man appeared in the centre of the platform.

Ignoring the hundreds of wands pointed in his direction, he hurried over to Rufus Scrimgeour, speaking earnestly as soon as the Minister could hear him. Scrimgeour's eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed, before barking curt questions to the messenger. He turned towards Dumbledore and instigated a lightning fast exchange which obviously didn't go the way he wanted it to, for after a furious gesture he withdrew something from his pocket. Dumbledore, however, caught the Minister's arm. Arum Parsons, who had made his way back to the Minister's side when the Messenger had arrived, obviously agreed with Dumbledore, for after a few quick words he, himself, withdrew something from his pocket and disappeared.

"What do you think has happened?" Hermione asked pensively.

"Something serious, anyway." Harry muttered.

"D'you think it's because of whatever that noise was?" Ron asked. "Or something else?"

"Something else, probably." Harry answered, remembering his conversation with Hermione after the Dementor attack. "Voldemort hardly ever does just one thing."

A second rumble split the air.

"Continue!" Scrimgeour's voice echoed sharply, and after a further moment's hesitation, the man directing the students resumed naming names.

The third crashing, booming, noise sounded as a group of third years were going through the gateway between the Magical and Muggle worlds. There was probably not one man, woman, or student who did not jump. One of the Aurors pushed the last student through the gateway, and before they had even turned around, Scrimgeour was shouting 'Next!'

Harry found himself automatically slowing his breathing in order to control his pounding heart. Without realising it, he cast his eyes over the platform once more, subconsciously looking for anything that might suggest something was wrong. At the gateway, the cursebreaker beside Bill was now shaking, and Harry raised his wand to the ready position as he made the connection that whatever the man was doing had suddenly become a lot harder. The last group of third years made their cautious way towards the exit, flanked by the two Aurors.

When the fourth sound of thunder sounded, the whole Platform began to shake, sending student, teacher, and Auror alike to the ground. Yells and scream filled the air, but unintelligibly. Ten seconds later, everything stopped. The shaking subsided. The rolling roars of primal noise abated. Even the panicky voices faded away to nothing. Everyone could have been holding their breath, waiting for what would happen next. The two Aurors with the students by the Archway were the rare exceptions, as they began to bodily push students through it.

Harry watched the students disappear with a kind of morbid fascination. Something was telling him to look away, not to watch, because something awful was about to happen, but at the same time he couldn't not look. Five were left to go through. Four. A fifth year Hufflepuff grabbed his brother, and pulled him through without assistance. An Auror pushed a Slytherin girl, and she disappeared safely.

The Ravenclaw third year who was left slammed into an invisible barrier.

As she crashed into mid-air, the whole of the platform began to shake once more. A loud – _CRACK!__ –_ split the sounds of the students' screams, and part of the roof separated from itself, and fell, striking an invisible barrier above the heads of Hogwarts' pupils, breaking up into smaller pieces, and then sliding down the protective dome, to come to rest upon the platform. Bright sunshine streamed through the hole, casting a merry light upon the carnage.

The man beside Bill crumpled to the ground, and, simultaneously, Bill came out of his meditative state looking around in confusion. Beside him, the two Aurors who had been escorting the students at last came to life once more. One of them grabbed the rather dazed third year who had completely frozen in shock, unable to even scream. The other reached for the unconscious cursebreaker, simultaneously saying something to Bill.

Harry shook his head, realising he had fallen into the trap of just watching, and not doing.

"Look, maybe we should split up." He suggested quietly. "Each of us take a side, and make sure the rest of the DA are organised, and don't do anything stupid."

"We're not leaving you Harry." Ron said firmly. "Not a chance in hell of that."

Harry hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "Okay," He nodded, catching Hermione as she stumbled, "come on."

The reverberations stopped, and the first loud snaps of apparition began, drowning out Hermione's thanks.

"Students stay where you are!" Scrimgeour bellowed, as the first Death Eaters appeared, all between the archway to King's Cross station, and the Aurors and the students. All between Bill, and the rest of the Order and the Ministry.

Initial curses flew out of the wands, causing a fireworks display of colours as spells hit shields. The Auror hurrying the third year back towards the students was hit in the back, a curse hitting, and piercing, a borrowed shield, and falling on top of the girl as he slumped to the ground. Neither of them moved. The other Auror was hit by green light, hand letting go of the unconscious Gringotts' employee, and crashing to the ground like a boneless pile of jelly.

Harry led the others towards the right hand side of the group of students. Past Terry Boot and Cho Chang, who were busy constructing a ward, and past Lavender, whose wand hand shook slightly as it pointed towards the fight. He paused as they reached Dean and Seamus, and with a quiet word, which neither probably heard, put a hand on Seamus' shoulder. Both Gryffindors swung around, wands raised, and, quite possibly, with curses on their lips.

"Guys." Harry repeated. "Can you two make sure no-one does anything stupid?" He asked slightly edgily.

Dean looked completely thrown, but Seamus nodded in reply.

"You can count on us, Harry."

"I know we can." Harry replied, forcing a small smile, and moving forward again.

The rumbling began once more, stopping them in their tracks. Directly overhead of them came an alarming creaking, and a few seconds later, the roof began to split once more.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron barked, and as a piece of concrete began to fall, the spell caught it in mid-air and lowered it carefully to the ground.

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he could see Dumbledore muttering quietly, and continuously, in an effort to counter either the earthquake like spell, or the apparition that was still continuing. The Death Eaters who had led the initial wave had by now either been disabled, or else had found a measure of cover. As one, curses shot out from them towards the ceiling, just as the rumbling stopped.

The ceiling fell. Purely on instinct, Harry had already half turned back towards his friends, bellowing the incantation, and half way through the wand movement.

"Protego Corporis!"

Harry slammed forwards towards the ground, agony shooting through his temples, hands only half breaking the fall, and his glasses sliding off, and breaking as his face met concrete. He desperately tried to hang on to the thread of concentration linking him to the shield. When blackness hit, it was as sudden as the blowing out of a candle.

* * *

X

* * *

"Harry." The voice was insistent. "Harry. Harry, wake up!"

"Give him a second, Gin." A voice Harry distantly recognised as Ron's, spoke a little foggily, sounding like Uncle Vernon's favourite radio station as it faded in and out as they went through tunnels in his company car. "Reducto!"

As Harry's mind recognised the spell, the situation flooded back to him. He sat, forcing himself upright by his hands, and promptly lurched to the side as his head swam. He scrunched up his eyes against the pain, vaguely realising he was missing his glasses. As he opened them once more, figures morphed in to each other, and he shook his head, blinking repeatedly. A hand reached out and steadied him, the other hand handing him his repaired glasses.

"Thanks." He muttered, scrambling to his feet with the aid of Ginny's arm. "What the hell happened?"

As he took his wand from Ginny's hand, he noticed the huge mix of concrete and iron beside them which was shielding him from most of the ongoing fight. He winced again, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.

"Effringo." Hermione said calmly.

Harry glanced up to see people in Death Eater robes and masks standing on top of the roof, staring down onto the platform below. Hermione's spell had just dissolved an incoming curse from one of them. He pushed himself back against the wreckage, and the cover it gave.

"The roof collapsed." Ron told him succinctly, ducking behind the piece of roof himself.

"Yeah I gathered. But my shield worked, right?"

"Well, yeah, but to tell you the truth, there's a huge dome around us which the roof slid off, and then bounced past us. It just kind of nicked your shield on the way down. It wasn't actually going to hit us."

"Urgh." Harry said, shaking his head once more. "You could have left me with the illusion that my headache had actually accomplished something."

Ron gave him a quick grin, and then peeked out of cover once more. "Farcio!"

Harry looked around again, trying to take in exactly where everyone was. The students had huddled together into a tighter group, and around its edges stood the DA members, firing curses up towards the roof. Dean, Seamus, and Neville in particular were still quite close to them, hurling vicious curse after vicious curse towards the men and women in robes above them.

Between Harry and the Death Eaters who had first apparated into Platform Nine and Three Quarters were Dumbledore and a number of teachers and Aurors. Behind them was the slumping body of Bill. Harry glanced quickly at Ron and Ginny, and could read the extra tension on their faces, as if they were open books. Whatever had happened, Bill was in trouble.

He ducked out from cover and levelled his wand. "Falxiardor."

His target – a hooded shape on top of the roof – merely ducked out of the way.

"We're too far to actually do anything," Ginny shrugged, "but we figured it would at least give them something else to think about."

Harry nodded, wincing once more. The platform was littered with casualties from both sides lying motionless on the floor, and pieces of fallen ceiling spread about the place, but only the Aurors and Order members had been hit by the debris. The demolition of the roof had felled a number of fighters, especially on the right hand side of the platform – co-incidentally, the area Harry and the others were nearest to. Harry ducked back behind cover once more.

A whining sound – almost imperceptible – started up, gradually getting louder and louder. If it weren't for the fact Harry's head was aching, he might not even have noticed it. Another stolen look showed Dumbledore – elegantly dancing around curse after curse – suddenly set his feet, and gesture towards the sky with his wand. The whining noise increased, piercing Harry's aching temples, and forcing him to push himself against the rubble, and screw up his eyes. A flash of blue lit up the air, visible even through his closed eyelids. When he opened them once more, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all rubbing theirs from a position on their backs on the ground.

Shaking his head yet again, he popped it out once more, wand pointing upwards, incantation on his lips, but stopped himself. A vaguely cyan, near transparent, barrier had filled the hole in the roof. Everyone on the platform – apart from Dumbledore and Harry himself – looked to have been flung either to the ground, or the top of the roof, where a number of Death Eaters were motionless. As Harry watched, the first Death Eaters above began to respond, and cast spells towards the blue barrier, which did not give an inch.

Back on the ground, Rufus Scrimgeour and an Auror were arguing violently. Scrimgeour angrily shrugged off a hand, and cast a spell at a Death Eater near Bill who was struggling to rise. The spell hit him, and surrounded the Death Eater in a green shell of a prison, which constricted until the Death Eater fell to the ground unconscious. Scrimgeour ducked an incoming spell, and then aimed at another target, but the Auror's hand took hold of his arm once more, and they both disappeared.

"Dean!" Harry heard Ginny's gasp, withdrew his head back into cover, and saw what she had seen. "What are they doing!"

Dean and Seamus were half running, half crouching alongside the Hogwarts Express, safe only because of the ring of Aurors surrounding them which meant no Death Eaters were in a position to target them with spells.

"It's not Dean and Seamus." Ron said, in a hushed voice. "It's Neville. Why the hell is-?"

Harry followed his gaze, not listening to Ron finish his sentence. Neville, who was now just in front of the Hogwarts Express' engine, had just entered one of the empty semicircular defensive structures just behind the fighting Aurors, presumably placed there for Aurors to retreat to if necessary. As Harry watched, he stood up fully, ignoring cover, and began firing spells towards the masked shapes. Harry followed the direction of the spells, and cursed as everything made sense.

The maskless face of Bellatrix Lestrange was directing the Death Eaters.

"C'mon." He said shortly, glancing around the debris providing such good cover, to make sure no Death Eaters were looking their way.

"Where?" Ron asked, warily, as if he knew exactly where Harry meant, and didn't agree with it. "Not to Neville! Dean and Seamus can handle it."

"Not unless they stun him." Harry replied shortly. "Well I'm going."

He sprinted directly towards the Hogwarts Express, or rather, towards the defensive cover the Aurors had made that was in the same direction. He ducked as he entered, and turned, raising his wand back towards the others. It didn't appear he had attracted any attention whatsoever, apart from some of the students still huddled to his left, so he beckoned Ron, Hermione, and Ginny towards him. After an exchange of glances, Ginny followed.

"Why is Neville-?" She began, and Harry interrupted with the answer.

"Lestrange is there. You know what she did to his parents. If he's gone that far to cast spells at her, he'll get closer."

He chanced a glance at Ginny, who swallowed, and nodded.

Dean and Seamus had just joined Neville, and Seamus pulled him down roughly out of view. But without either of them knowing why Neville was doing what he was, Harry doubted they'd be able to talk any sense into him. He doubted he'd be able to either, but at least he had more of a chance.

"Harry – I don't think-" Hermione was speaking even before she settled herself into cover.

"It's Lestrange!" Harry interrupted again, trying not to get angry. "Look, we get to Neville, we stop him, we get back here, okay?"

Harry glanced sideways again. For the moment Seamus and Dean were keeping Neville out of sight, but Neville was struggling fiercely.

"Come with me Ginny, two at a time." He set himself to run, glanced to check that Ginny was ready, and then sprinted towards the next structure.

As Harry slid behind the next piece of cover, only ten yards to the side of his fellow Gryffindor sixth years now, he glanced back out into the fight going on in front of them. The Aurors were putting up a good fight, and on the other side of the battlefield, they looked to be getting the upper hand. Unfortunately, they were quickly losing ground on their side. While the Aurors directly alongside Dean, Seamus, and Neville were holding fast, a big bite had been taken out of the semi circle, and Aurors were quickly retreating back towards the Hogwarts Express. If he couldn't get his three classmates out of there, they would soon be exchanging curses with Death Eaters that vastly outnumbered them.

"Duck!" Ginny yelled abruptly.

Harry did so, and a curse shot over his head. He glanced back towards Ron and Hermione, who were just about to set off.

"Thanks."

"They weren't aiming at us, they just missed an Auror." Ginny reassured him.

Harry looked back towards Neville, and swore. As he watched, Neville squirmed out of Dean's grip, pushed him into Seamus, causing both to fall to the ground, and sprung sideways into the open, raising his wand towards Bellatrix in the distance.

"Mutucutus!" Harry bellowed, and his shield was immediately called into effect as it blocked a spell heading towards Neville. He glanced at Ginny. "Can you try to shield me from spells?"

"Where a-"

But Harry had already set off, ducking out of the way of another stray spell as he left the shelter. A second spell hit his shield in front of Neville, and although the spell didn't get through to Neville, it destroyed the shield. Neville didn't seem to notice. Harry glanced to his side, and flung himself forward to avoid a curse.

As Harry pushed himself up with his hands to begin running again, a curse hit Neville, pushing itself through a shield belonging to either Dean or Seamus, and striking Neville on the middle of his torso. He crumpled to the ground.

"Bullatueor!" Harry cried, pushing himself forwards, and scrambling to Neville's side.

Spells hit Harry's shield, but none made an impact, and he quickly cast a second one: "Sæptus."

He looked down at Neville, whose chest was barely contracting and expanding, but was doing so none the less – albeit slowly. He glanced to the side, where Dean and Seamus were shooting spells towards those who were attacking him.

"Need a hand!" He yelled, grasping one of Neville's arms, in order to pull him to safety.

"Got him, Harry." Ron's voice came from behind him, panting slightly.

The red head grabbed Neville's other arm, and they pulled as one, dragging him the scant distance to where Dean and Seamus were casting spell after spell – going for quantity rather than accuracy.

"How is he?" Dean shouted.

"No idea. He's still breathing." Harry panted back. "Can you guys take him back?"

"And you?" Seamus asked.

"We'll be right behind you." Ron told him firmly, as if daring Harry to disagree.

As it happened, Harry agreed with him wholeheartedly. Apart from anything else, if they were here, then the Aurors in front and to the side wouldn't be able to retreat.

"Staying here would be suicide." He told them.

"Is he okay?" Ginny asked nervously, ducking in to join them, and it became even more crowded as Hermione followed.

Harry inwardly cursed. "He's alive and not bleeding, but we aren't healers. I've no idea what to do to see if he's okay. Look, Dean, Seamus, carry him back to everyone else, we'll shield you until you're out of range, and then we'll follow. Okay?"

They nodded. Harry turned, and raised his wand towards the Death Eaters – not risking an offensive spell in case it drew attention.

"Two of you watch them, the other keep guard with me." He said, in what sounded a surprisingly calm voice, even to him.

The seconds ticked by, and Harry didn't dare take his eyes off the battle in front of him, as one of the Death Eaters slumped to the ground, to be caught by a second curse which tied him up as he fell, while an Auror was sent flying out of cover, and stared at Harry for a second, before forcing herself to her feet, and crouching back in her position. She turned back as she got out of the line of fire, and waved for them to retreat. Harry nodded – he hadn't wanted to be there in the first place. One of the Death Eaters was sent flying by a curse, down onto the train tracks themselves, where he twitched as he landed, and another curse struck an Auror, who slumped to the ground, blood oozing through his robes.

"When they're safe, then sa-"

_BOOM!_

Harry's sentence died on his lips, and he twisted to the side, in the direction of the sound. Pieces of debris hammered a shield just before it could strike any of the four of them. An explosion had not only thrown the Aurors yards away from the position they had been firing curses from, but also demolished the structure that they had been behind. As the smoke and dust disappeared, and Harry heard Ginny slump to the ground, panting from exhaustion, curses shot out towards the bloody, battered men and women who had been tossed like rag dolls. They didn't move.

Harry and Ron swore as one.

"Okay, let's hold them off." Harry yelled. "Don't let them get any closer, the further they are away, the easier it will be to shield their spells."

He raised his wand, and aimed at the closest of the four Death Eaters: "Stupefy!"

"Imperio!" Someone else's voice rang out at the same moment as Harry's.

Not waiting to see whether he had hit or missed, Harry ducked, scuttling sideways into cover, and twisting to see who had cast the spell. It was the Death Eater who had been flung onto the train tracks, now standing on the edge of the platform. Harry raised his wand.

A gravelly voice chuckled slightly disconcertingly from behind the mask. "I wouldn't."

Harry hesitated fractionally, and before he knew it, Ginny pushed herself to her feet, and moved to stand in front of him, facing the Death Eater, with her back to the rest of the fight behind them, and making herself a target both to them, and to others if the Aurors ten yards to their right were to fall.

"Ginny! What are y-" He stopped, putting two and two together. The Imperius curse.

"Gin-" Ron began, twisting his head.

"Don't stop! Shield everything!" Harry said desperately.

"Protego." The gravelly voice said with a twisted sound of amusement.

A curse shot over Harry's head, and bounced off a shield which appeared just in time to protect Ginny's back.

"What the-?" Harry burst out in confusion as Ginny took a couple of steps towards the Death Eater.

"Oh, I've got plans for your little friend, Potter, don't worry."

Ginny turned around slowly, and raised her wand, pointing it directly at Harry's heart.

"Impedimenta!" Harry cried, aiming around Ginny at the Death Eater, who sidestepped.

"People who try to kill you seem to have bad things happen to them, so let's see what happens if it's one of your friends, shall we?" The Death Eater chuckled again.

"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry's spells bounced off the Death Eater's shield, not reaching Ginny's unnervingly motionless body. His mind froze – he couldn't think of anything he could do that wouldn't risk hurting Ginny.

All he could do was talk.

"Ginny." He said, looking her squarely in the eyes. "I know you can hear me. You can fight him. There's a voice in your mind telling you to do things."

The man continued to gloat, revelling in the moment. "The Dark Lord promises that whatever protection you have will be gone by the end of tonight, but think how I will gain his favour when I kill you with it still there."

Harry ignored him, glad for the extra time. "Ask yourself if listening to it is what you want to do. Because you don't want to do this. I know you don't, Ginny. Look at me."

"Enough! Kill him, child!"

"Falx-" Ginny's voice was weak, and didn't finish.

"You can do it, Ginny! Fight him!"

"Imperio!" The Death Eater shouted again, worry creeping into his voice.

Her pupils moved slightly, and her eyes screwed up just a fraction.

"You can do it, Ginny…" Harry breathed again. "Fight him."

Her head twitched slightly, and two things happened in quick succession: she turned towards the Death Eater, and three voices rang out as one.

"Falxia!"

"Quassossis!"

"Sæptus!"

Harry's shield stopped the bone shattering curse from hitting Ginny. Ginny's scything curse hit the Death Eater across the neck. He slumped to the ground soundlessly.

Ginny staggered slightly, taking half a step backwards, and then stopping, staring at the body.

"Harry, our right!" Ron shouted.

"Ginny!" Harry said urgently, and then yelled. "GINNY! Get back to cover!"

He twisted to the side, to see the Aurors motionless on the ground, Death Eaters advancing, and behind them, in the open, the mask-less woman in Death Eaters robes moving towards them, as if she was not bothered about the possible threat of Auror spells, knowing they were too busy with others of Voldemort's minions.

Bellatrix Lestrange's lips wrapped lovingly around the curse. "Pulmelido!"

"Effringo!" Harry bellowed, spell bulleting towards Lestrange's.

They met in mid-air, Bellatrix's spell burrowing into Harry's dispersing charm, turning into a paler yellow, and shrinking, but emerging the other side, destroying Harry's spell, and continuing towards its target. It struck Ginny, who fell to her knees.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry bellowed, springing to his feet, and aiming directly at Lestrange's chest.

She threw herself to the side, and the curse flew on to crash against the far wall, removing a large chunk of it as it hit. Before she had got to her feet again, Harry was kneeling beside Ginny, who was struggling for air.

"Come on Ginny. Please…" He moaned.

She coughed, and spat out blood, but the wheezing sound of inhalation that followed was arguably as sweet a sound as Harry had every heard. With every ounce of mental strength he could muster, he forced himself to look away from the crouching form of Ginny, and turn to face Lestrange. Her painful gasps echoed in his ears as he sprung upright in order to stand erect between Ginny and the woman who had killed Sirius.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione's voice rang out over the sounds of fighting.

A curse sprung from Lestrange's wand, and Harry cast a large bell shield which absorbed it. She shouted something, and the Death Eaters between them looked back, before moving towards the Aurors and Order members, and away from Harry and the others, leaving the path between Lestrange and Harry clear. Harry walked forwards calmly, without taking his eyes off her.

"Help Ginny." He ordered Hermione in a steady, raised voice.

Lestrange stood stationary and motioned with her hand, inviting Harry to walk forwards further to a duelling distance. He did so, walking past the defensive structure that the fallen Aurors had been behind, and the Death Eaters had just vacated, in order to face her in the open. It was better than allowing her to try to kill Ginny again.

She cocked her head ever so slightly, smirking. "I heard ickle Hawwy was pwacticing his Unfawgiwables. Dumbledore must be so pwoud."

_Stupefy!_

Harry's wordless spell was deflected by the still sneering Bellatrix Lestrange.

"What's da matter?" She continued in the sing-song voice she had used a year ago. "Don't feel like twying a Cwucio?"

"You think I won't?" Harry answered coldly. "I told you I'd avenge Sirius. Well, I will."

_Falxia. Reducto. _

The first spell must have taken the woman by surprise, for it pierced her hastily erected shield, although it just caught her on the arm, and no signs of blood were immediately evident. The shield absorbed Harry's second spell.

She glanced behind Harry for a second, and he resisted the urge to turn and check how Ron, Hermione and Ginny were, but rather returned his wand to the ready position, wondering how best to catch Lestrange off guard, and open the way for a deadly curse.

"But I have some catching up to do, Potter." She snarled, abruptly changing her manner of speech. "You killed my husband and my brother-in-law. How about we even up the scores, by getting rid of one of your friends, shall we?"

"You won't get a chance." Harry spat, glaring at her murderously.

Her spells came quickly, and wordlessly. Harry's shield absorbed the first easily, but he was physically pushed back a step as the second struck, and, rather than risking the third, he jumped sideways, missing it by inches.

"Farcio! Stupefy!" _Quassossis._

He added the third spell nonverbally, but Bellatrix was not caught out, casting a separate shield after her 'Protego!' had deflected his first two spells, which clanged noisily as it started to split, but still held.

They held each other's gaze for a few moments, Harry refusing to look in the least bit cowed.

"I'm still waiting to see if you can cast a working Unforgivable, Potter."

"I hope the suspense kills you," Harry ground out between his teeth, refusing to let anything she said affect him, or to give credence to any of her glances over his shoulder, "if not, then I will."

He was not afraid of Bellatrix Lestrange. He despised her, he knew she was ruthless, unscrupulous, and had more magical knowledge than he did, not to mention more experience fighting, but he knew he could beat her. He knew he could kill her. Blood was now appearing on the sleeve covering the arm Harry had struck at the start of the fight, and it gave Harry a slight feeling of grim satisfaction.

"I heard you've got a taste for killing." It sounded as if Lestrange was going for an airy tone, but her voice was too cold to get the desired effect. "Do you keep count? You do? Don't worry, I used to, you know, but it soon becomes impossible to keep track. How many are you at so far? Apart from my family, of course." Her voice warped into hatred once more as she spoke the last sentence, and added just one more word.

"Crucio!"

"Farcio!" Harry snarled, a moment later.

Lestrange's Unforgivable struck him square on the chest, and he collapsed to the ground, a scream on his lips, when it stopped abruptly. Harry's spell had sent her flying backwards into the wall, disrupting the curse.

He pushed himself to his feet once more, wincing, and breathing heavily. As short a time as the curse had been applied, and despite his vest, it still hurt like hell. Lestrange stumbled forwards, back towards Harry, falling to her knees from the impact against the concrete. She pointed her wand at herself, and then also found her feet. She strode forward angrily.

"Falxiardor."

Bellatrix's shield absorbed the spell, and she returned a riposte of her own, which Harry adroitly avoided.

"I notice you haven't tried to kill me with an Unforgivable yet either. Scared?"

"Before the end of the night, the Dark Lord will have destroyed whatever protection you have Potter, and I will present you to him to kill, the moment he has done so. But I'll kill one of your friends first, of course. We have to make our tallies even, after all. Of course, your killing spree will also end tonight." She smiled nastily. "How many is that again? You never answered my question."

"Four," Harry said through his teeth, "I've killed four. Although I didn't kill Rabastan Lestrange, so you can leave my friends out of it."

"Don't lie, Potter. I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't approve."

"But he isn't lying." A voice said from the side, causing both combatants to swivel their heads. "_I_ killed him."

Aravenne was standing on the edge of the platform, empty train tracks running behind and below him, his left hand pointing his wand firmly in Bellatrix Lestrange's direction.

Neither Harry nor Bellatrix spoke for a moment, and Aravenne continued calmly. "Harry, get back to safety."

"I'm not letting her escape." Harry replied angrily.

"I've no intention of letting her leave this place alive, Harry, now go. Your friends need you."

Harry finally gave into temptation, and glanced around. Hermione and Ron were back where he had left them, fighting three Death Eaters, defensive spells looking dangerously weak.

"Go!" Aravenne repeated.

Harry backed away a pace or two. If his friends needed his help, then he would leave Bellatrix to Aravenne. As Aravenne launched into an attack, Harry turned, suddenly aware of just how in the open he was if anyone were to attack him as he left the fight. He slipped into the defensive position he had passed as he had approached her, trying to avoid the dead Aurors – who lay there, eyes open, and blood pooling around them – ducking into the cover and sneaking a glance backwards. His gaze lingered slightly as he saw a spell of Aravenne's breach a shield, and its target convulse in pain, and then returned back towards his friends.

Without further hesitation, he raised his wand, and aimed it carefully at one of the Death Eaters attacking Ron and Hermione, concentrating intently. _Falxiardor!_

His target never saw the spell coming; the curse scythed through some kind of shield, and struck them. A woman's voice shrieked in pain, and then fell silent, collapsing to the ground, flames licking the body.

_Five._ The uncomfortable number floated to the surface with a stab of fear, which he stamped on immediately. He was not Bellatrix. He didn't enjoy killing, or go out of his way to do so. He slipped back into cover, and out of sight.

"Stupefy." Ron's voice was difficult to make out over the sounds of fighting, but Harry could still just about do it.

He looked over the lip of the stone structure once more, in time to see the last Death Eater raise his wand in his direction as he was spotted, and then be struck by another stunning spell from Ron. After a quick glance to check that there were no more Death Eaters nearby, he returned his attention to Lestrange and Aravenne. They were both getting to their feet, and Bellatrix, Harry was pleased to see, had a pronounced limp.

"Who are you?" Harry could just about hear the wariness in Lestrange's voice; obviously Aravenne was a very good duellist, but Harry didn't find the confirmation much of a surprise.

"Don't you recognise me?" Aravenne asked, possibly mockingly, Harry couldn't tell from the distance.

"Thanks mate." Ron said in his ear. "Ginny's having trouble breathing, but Hermione says she'll be okay. C'mon, let's get her back to the others – I think Dumbledore and the Ministry are winning."

Harry had jumped slightly when Ron approached; he had been so intent on the confrontation in front of them. They exchanged spells once more, the circle of green fire Lestrange surrounded Aravenne with spluttering into nothingness.

"We can't," He told Ron quietly, "Aravenne would have no-one to help him. They could surround him."

Ron didn't reply immediately, and Harry turned to look at him. He had gone as white as Nearly Headless Nick.

"What?" He hissed urgently.

Ron raised a shaking finger. "Y- Y- You-Know-Wh –Who."

Harry followed his digit. Walking slowly, but purposefully towards the two combatants from behind Lestrange was Voldemort.

"Voldemort." Harry stated in horrified acknowledgement.

"I can't bloody say it, Harry, okay?" Ron said in a mixture of anger and anguish.

Harry shook his head slightly in confusion. "Get back to Hermione and Ginny. Quickly. Don't let any Death Eaters see you."

"Come with me. You can't face him now."

"I'll go when you're in safety, we can't both run away, letting him curse our backs."

"If you don't, I'm coming back." Ron said in a shaking voice, still looking pale.

"Go!" Harry barked, and a moment later he heard Ron leave.

"Why should I recognise you?" Lestrange's out of breath voice asked in the distance.

"You killed my brother." Aravenne said in a clear, furious voice. "Avada Kedavra!"

The Death Eater threw herself aside, away from the curse, and it sailed past. Aravenne froze as he saw the Dark Lord behind her, and stared at him in what Harry imagined was probably horror. Voldemort stopped dead as their eyes met. Aravenne managed to wrench his head away, and to the side.

"You don't recognise your cousin, Bella?" Voldemort's voice was as clear, and dead of positive emotion as Harry could remember. Somehow he knew that Voldemort was as angry as Harry had seen him.

In contrast, Bellatrix's face split into a wide, warped grin as she heard her master's voice.

"Should I, my Lord?" She asked, in a voice both ingratiating and confident at the same time.

"Yes, Bella," Voldemort said, striding to take up a position beside her, his voice dangerous, "your husband swore to me that he was dead. Rodolphus is lucky he is no longer with us. You shall have to take some of his punishment for him."

"M- My Lord!" Lestrange stammered.

"Go, take over from Lucius, and you had better hope that you please me or your nights will be particularly long and painful."

Aravenne finally moved for the first time since he had seen Voldemort appear. He took a step backwards, back towards the railway track.

Lestrange's mouth opened, but she shut it immediately, and hastily reached into her robes, and disappeared. Portkeys obviously worked again.

The intensity in Voldemort's voice was frightening, as he spoke again. "So, Regulus, you are alive."

_Regulus? Regulus Black? Sirius' brother? But he was dead!_

Harry glanced behind, Ron was looking anxiously towards him, and as he beckoned to Harry to come, Hermione popped up a frantic head. Behind them and to the side, Aurors were approaching, as was Dumbledore, forcing an ever decreasing amount of Death Eaters to retreat, none of them having seen the students, but some of them heading directly towards his crouching friends. Harry nodded to his friends and pointed behind them, before he turned back towards Voldemort, torn. Aravenne had frozen. If Harry retreated now, he, Ron, Hermione, and hopefully Ginny, would all be okay, but Aravenne would be dead, if he stayed his friends would be in even more danger.

Voldemort raised his wand.

_Make __that __if __I __don__'__t __act _now_, __Aravenne__'__s __dead._ _Regulus?_

The robes on Aravenne's right arm split open, and a bandage fell away, revealing the flesh underneath, but Harry was too far away to see anything.

"Where is it?" Voldemort snarled. "What did you do?"

Aravenne didn't answer.

Harry had to act. He had to stop Voldemort. But how could he stop him, get himself and his friends to safety, _and_ stop him getting hold of the Scrivenings? His own words echoed back to him:

"…_but __sometimes __there _is _nothing __you __can __do__…"_

"Scared that some people will want to get rid of theirs too, if they find out how, V-V- Voldemort?" Aravenne had found his voice, but Harry could tell by its half heartedness that it was the last courage of a man who knew he was about to die.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's wand hand trembled as it rose to point towards Voldemort.

_Think!_ Harry told himself. _There__'__s __always __an__other __way. __Always! __Save __Aravenne. __Escape. __Find __the __Scrivenings. __Think!_

A weight settled over his neck, as a pendant appeared.

"If you are going to fight me, then at least look me in the eyes, Black, or does your bravery not stretch that far?" Voldemort said, goading.

Harry made up his mind, seeing some of the retreating Death Eaters beginning to close in on their master and Aravenne, and got to his feet. If he waited any longer, then he definitely couldn't do anything.

"Falxiardor!" He yelled as loudly as he could.

Voldemort turned towards him, batted away the curse, and then locked eyes with Harry for a moment. Harry turned, leapfrogged the barrier the other side, and sprinted at a slight angle towards his friends a short distance away. Behind them, a retreating Death Eater had turned and seen him. More turned, and Harry knew their wands would soon be raised.

"Take that man and leave!" Voldemort shouted behind Harry, who didn't look back. "I want to question him."

Halfway there, a spell whizzed over his right shoulder, and Hermione gasped.

Not even considering turning, he yelled at Ron and Hermione. "Grab Ginny, and then grab me. Hold on tight. Trust me!"

He rounded the barrier and slid behind it, turning to look over the lip at the approaching Voldemort. He raised his wand, but had to duck to avoid a green curse. A hand gripped his arm tightly, and another his leg, and Harry exhaled, steeling himself.

"Got Ginny?"

"YES!" Ron shouted back, as a spell shot over their heads from the other direction.

He looked over the lip again to see the advancing Voldemort level his wand once more. Harry raised his towards the pendant hanging around his neck with a phoenix emblazoned upon it.

As he tapped it, he spoke a single word: "Fawkes."


	37. En Passent

_A/N: Need a hint as to the last chapter title still? This chapter's title may well give it to you!_

_A/N: This is a particularly long chapter, even for me. Just so you're forewarned. (I wasn't happy breaking it up.)_

* * *

**Chapter 37: En Passent**

Harry tried, but failed, to gasp as the conflicting forces pulled at his body, threatening to wrench his joints out of his sockets. The pendant around his neck – gripped firmly by his clenched palm – was pulling him forwards through the air, while the weight of three bodies was dragging him backwards. Colours flashed before his eyes in a kaleidoscopic whirl.

"Mmph." The breath was knocked out of him in a rush as he landed face first upon the soft ground.

He blinked twice, trying to collect himself, shook his head, as the earlier pain threatened to return, before levering himself up a few inches. He turned his head as he did, so that he could spit out the clod of grass and earth the landing had left him with. With a groan, he attempted to roll onto his back.

"You can let go now." Harry gasped, as the two grips showed no signs of being relinquished.

He rolled over on his second attempt, and sat up, feeling his body gingerly, and wincing to the somehow harmonious moans of Ron and Hermione. He spat out more earth, and looked up.

"Is every- Ginny!"

He scrambled up, and virtually threw himself forwards, sliding on his knees to where Ginny was lying: half curled up on her side, wheezing for air. He didn't register the words Ron or Hermione said – he barely even registered their presence. Sliding his arm carefully underneath Ginny, he gently raised her into a sitting position.

"You have to try to breathe slowly!" He urged. "Just concentrate on taking the longest breath you can. Don't think of anything else. It will help, trust me!"

His mind scanned back desperately to those first aid lessons in Charms he had struggled with, but he couldn't think of anything that might help. The Pulmelido curse was way out of a mere student's league when it came to healing.

"Please…" He whispered.

It was an all-encompassing plea; one meant for Ginny, to breathe slowly; one directed at any all-seeing higher power to step in and intervene; one to Ron and Hermione, in case either could think of anything which might help; and finally one for himself, to remember anything, no matter how small, which might make a difference.

"You're going to be okay, Ginny, I promise," Harry felt the false assurance in his voice, as the panic swelled in his chest, "just breathe slowly."

It happened suddenly. A flash of light in his vision, in a complicated formation Harry had never seen, and recognition of the unintentional magic struck him too late to do anything about it. White light, the colour his face had changed into, left his hand, to embed itself in Ginny, who arched slightly as it did so. The rapid wheezes lessened, and Harry felt her grab hold weakly of the hand he had wrapped around her waist. His heart had reached Muggle pneumatic drill levels. He willed it slower, and dimly recognised an arm shaking his shoulder urgently, and calling his name.

"Harry!" Ron hissed. "What happened? Where are we? Hermione and I heard something."

"I-" Harry could taste vomit in his throat, "I couldn't control the ma-"

Hermione's reply was urgent, "I think the wandless magic helped, Harry – don't worry about that. Where are we?"

"Dumbledore gave me a Portkey," Harry replied, almost vaguely, "just in case anything happened to him. So we could get to Slytherin's house. It was the only way I could think of getting us out of there."

He paused for a moment, forcing himself to calm his pulse, and think clearly. It looked like whatever he had done _had_ helped – at least this time. Ginny, although still clinging to him rather, was gaining control of her breathing once more – even if it was still shallow – and to his relief, she looked like she would be alright – despite the rough Portkey ride and landing. It couldn't have done her any good, but the alternative had been far worse. Voldemort and the Death Eaters would have…

Harry shook his head furiously. His concern for Ginny had driven thoughts of everything else out of his mind, even the very real danger they were still in. The only people who would be around for miles would be…

"We have to be careful. There might be Death Eaters near."

"Guessed so." Ron's answer was quiet and possibly a little fearful. "So if we did hear something, it isn't going to be help, anyway.

"I'll make a ward." Hermione said nervously from behind them.

"You heard something?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Didn't you hear me? I just said that-"

He cut Ron off mid sentence. "I know, I wasn't concentrating. I was worried about Ginny and forgot- I'm sorry. I should have-"

"You're not superhuman." Ron snapped, and then shook his head slightly, as if wondering where that had come from. "You were helping Ginny, and we can worry about the rest – or don't you trust us?"

"Of course I do! Look, I'm sorry-"

Ron rolled his eyes, making an expansive gesture of exasperation with his arms, causing a very small smile to appear on Harry's face.

"Okay. Well, thanks. I mean, she's your sister."

"And you-" Ron began.

A very small, slightly rasping voice sounded from beside Harry. "I-" She coughed, fighting to control the impulse, and deaden the noise, "I am still here you know."

"Ginny! You okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine," she said, a little louder, coughing again, and wincing. "I was getting better the- We should go if Death Eaters are coming."

"But you're not well enough to be moved!" Ron hissed in consternation.

"I can walk." Ginny gently removed Harry's arm, and shakily pushed herself to her feet. "See?" She said.

Her knees buckled, and Harry caught her once more as they gave way completely. She went red.

"We aren't going anywhere yet. Take a breather. Er… I mean… break." He told her apologetically as he forced her to remain sitting this time.

Ginny covered her mouth with a hand again, in order to silence the coughing fit.

Harry grinned ruefully. "No jokes. Got it."

Looking up, he took in the surroundings for the first time. They were in a garden: a couple of bushy shrubs were between them and the house; hedges obscured the view to either side of them; while behind them was a sheer cliff, rising to at least forty foot. There were only two real choices as to which way to go: left along the cliff, or right. Right meant moving towards wherever Slytherin had supposedly lived, and left meant getting back to safety. In ordinary circumstances, it would be a no-brainer.

He rose into a crouch, and looked at Ron. "Which way did the sounds come from? That way?" He pointed to the right, before nodding at the house. "Or there?"

Ron followed Harry's eyes to the house, but shook his head, before gesturing towards where Harry had assumed safety lay. "Neither, they came from over there. It sort of sounded like people shouting a long way away. Haven't a clue what about though, sorry." He craned his neck to look at Hermione, who was on her knees, muttering fiercely, wand making complicated motions. "Hermione doesn't either."

"Sounds like something to do with us. Too much of a coincidence otherwise." Harry told them, trying to squash the nerves which were fighting to get out. "Right. I'll see if I can see or hear anything. You two stay here, and keep your eyes out." He glanced at Ron, and back to Ginny, who was still struggling to breathe deeply.

"I'll go," Ron said immediately, "better you're here to help Ginny and Hermione if any Death Eaters show up."

Harry shook his head, digging into the magically altered pocket of his jeans as he did so. He had spent at least an hour increasing the size of it the previous night, and although it may have only gained him a few more square inches, he couldn't help but think it was worth it as he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.

"I have this, and it's broad daylight," He pointed out, "besides, I trust you to handle anyone who comes along."

Before Ron could say anything more, he took a couple of steps towards the hedge, and vanished in a flash of silvery material.

"It makes sense, Ron…" Harry heard Ginny say weakly as he stood up to his full height, and walked to the hedge.

The most cursory glance showed no-one around next door, but the hedge the other side of that garden had to be at least seven feet. Knowing what lay beyond that would entail getting closer. Harry could make a reasonable guess however – there was no second house beyond, suggesting that only fields stretched off in that direction to the hills in the distance.

Harry paused. He hadn't thought of it earlier, but surely that meant they had Portkeyed through the Death Eaters' wards? If they had, and Death Eaters had been shouting, then maybe it had been because they had been noticed going through. He glanced back at his friends, and then moved silently towards the house, and then down the side towards the road.

Through the bars of the tall gate, he could see a couple more houses opposite, liberally spaced apart, and beyond them were nothing but trees and hills. Breathing a sigh of relief as the gate opened both smoothly and quietly, he slipped through before pushing it to once more. There could only be a dozen or so houses at most in what Dumbledore had generously described as a village, and while the road disappeared downhill dramatically to his right, before zigzagging back upwards in the distance; to his left it looked like it petered out into a dirt track as it entered a forest, and approached the steep cliffs that encircled the area.

Surveying the valley below were three mask-less figures in Death Eaters' robes, but although he could hear the sound of voices, Harry couldn't understand them. He padded towards them carefully.

"Damn you Woody – I told you, there's nothing there!" Harry stopped as the gruff voice floated across the air.

A woman's voice replied snidely. "The name's Wooderson, Niffler droppings, and like I told you, I saw and heard something up there," she pointed skywards, "just because you two couldn't spot a giant in Gringotts doesn't mean no-one's here."

A second man cackled. "I think you got her angry Masher."

"She's always mad at me. Let's just get back to the game. How about we make things more interesting, Woody? I win the next hand, and tonight, you…"

"Either of you ever tried thinking with your brain for a change?" She retorted furiously. "You two are pathetic. You do realise what will happen to us if the Ministry got an Auror in on _our _watch, right?"

"Why'd'ya think we agreed to look around in the first place? There's nothing there Woody, there's nothing to worry about." The second man's placating tone was interrupted by the sound of palm meeting face, causing him to roar in pain. "What in Merlin's name was that for?"

"I thought I told you not to call me that? Looks like I'll just have to slap some sense into you."

The man called Masher laughed. "I think she likes you, Spider."

"You want some too McCauley? What is it with you and your silly nicknames – is Wormtail your idol?"

"There's your answer Wood- Wooderson, just tell Wormtail and let him worry about it. He is meant to be in charge after all, although why I-"

Harry forced himself to breath deeply, and took a couple of cautious steps backwards. So Pettigrew was here? He blinked twice, and shook his head under the cloak. Going after him here and now would probably rank as one of the most foolhardy things he'd have done, and he was sure a whole host of people would delight in telling him just how long that list was. Besides, he'd heard what he needed to. People were looking for them.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry slipped the cloak off his shoulders, and hissed: "I'm back."

To their credit, although his three friends jumped, they made no exclamation.

Ron took a deep breath. "And?"

"They aren't sure, but they think someone's here, so they'll be looking for us." Harry answered quietly, putting the cloak away, and sinking to his knees.

"So let's get out of here." Hermione's voice was slightly strangled. "What's the quickest way away?"

"Left along the cliff," Harry told her, and hesitated slightly, "but we'll be heading straight towards at least three of them."

"Can we Portkey out again?" Ginny asked, still wheezing slightly.

"Yeah! Hermione could make one. We've already checked for wards." Ron's immediate reply gave Harry the distinct impression that they had been discussing the possibility while he was gone.

He shook his head vehemently. "We can't. You don't understand. Dumbledore gave me this so we could get to the Scrivenings if he- if he died. And I've used it. There's no guarantee we can come back here with it. And it got us through whatever wards they have here – how are we meant to get through them again without it?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're planning to go after the Scrivenings now, Harry, aren't you?"

"What?" Ron hissed. "Are you crazy?"

"I don't think I've any choice." He replied helplessly. "If we leave here, then even if no-one sees us, Voldemort will alter the wards just in case. Or maybe he'll know for certain when he checks the wards. I dunno. But anyway, if something's happened to Dumbledore then we won't be able to get in. But it's not just that, there's hardly anyone here now. They're all fighting the Ministry. This place is tiny – I haven't a clue how we'll get through if it's crawling with Death Eaters. And…" He trailed off.

"And?" Ginny prompted after a while.

_Just whose side is that note writer on?_

"I got another note on the train. It said Voldemort is going after the Scrivenings tonight."

There was a pause as Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"But you told Dumbledore about it, right?" Ron asked in a falsely confident voice.

Harry nodded. "But he's too busy fighting Voldemort. He's pretty much the only one who isn't too scared to, right? Bes-"

"What if it's a trap?" Hermione interrupted.

Harry struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice, and hissed as quietly as he could, "You think I haven't asked myself that? I still don't know who the spy is helping, but Lestrange said something about him getting past my mother's protection tonight too. One of the other Death Eaters said something too- I _know_ it might be a trap, but what choice have I got? What if it isn't a trick? We can't let Voldemort get them!"

"But we can't do it on our own!" Ron told him firmly. "We need help."

"Harry!" Ginny said urgently, and then coughed. "What about that thing Fred and George gave you?"

"Ginny – you're brilliant." Harry fished in his pockets, before removing the coin, and staring at it on his palm. "Well, here goes."

He tapped it with his wand, before raising it to the side of his head. It sprung into his ear on its own accord, and caused a curious sensation as it morphed into a liquid, and ran into his ear, before hardening, and sealing itself once more.

"Hello?" Harry whispered. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

There was complete silence. The three Gryffindors stared at him anxiously, and the Whispering Wire in his ear didn't make a noise. Voices sounded in the distance, and Harry glanced around, seeing no-one.

He raised his voice slightly, still keeping it low. "Is anyone there?" He looked at Ron, Hermione and Ginny helplessly. "There's no answer."

"Maybe it's the wards?" Hermione suggested.

"Probably." Ron said miserably.

"Great." Harry lifted his hand back up to his ear. Immediately he touched it, Fred and George's invention fell into his palm. "Well, it's just us then."

Ron glared at him in disbelief. "You aren't serious?"

"Got any better ideas?"

"Yeah, we get the hell out of here. It's not our job to get the Scrivenings."

"Yes it is." Harry said angrily, and hurriedly lowered his voice once more. "Why do you think I was the only one Dumbledore told about this place? Nobody else knows that he even figured out where it is."

"Then surely we'd better go back?" Ginny panted. "If something happens to both you and Dumbledore, then no-one else knows where to go."

Harry glowered at each of them in turn. "Fine." He said eventually. "Hermione? Can you make a Portkey?"

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, as Hermione nodded. "Where to?"

"Anywhere, just as long as no Death Eaters are there."

Harry turned around angrily. _Didn__'__t __they __understand __just __how __dangerous __it __would __be __if __Voldemort __got __his __hands __on __the __Scrivenings?_

Voices rang out from the road.

"You checked all the houses and gardens, and still nothing?"

"It's a false alarm." Someone replied grumpily.

"So you haven't checked them? Do it. Now."

Harry swung around anxiously. Ginny nodded to show that she had heard it too. Hermione looked up from the stone she was holding.

"It's done."

"Right. You three touch the stone, and Portkey out of here."

All six of their eyes narrowed as one.

"And where will you be?" Ron asked dangerously.

"Finding the Scrivenings. I can't let Voldemort get them – this way you three can tell the Order where to go if I don't come back and Dumbledore is- Look, all you have to do is follow the cliff around to the right."

"Harry-" Ron burst out furiously. "If you think we're leaving y-"

"Did you hear that?" A shout sounded from the other side of the house.

"Well now you've made my job a hell of a lot harder, Ron." Harry said, irate. "Just go. Now. I've got to hurry."

"We aren't leaving." Ginny stated hoarsely. "If it's a choice between getting out of here and leaving you to die, or staying and going on a probable suicide mission with you, then we're staying."

Harry turned his back to them and faced the house on his haunches. "Just go. You've all made it clear you don't want to find them, and you think it's a trap. I'm not leading you guys into another ambush. Go on."

"Not a chance." Ron told him scornfully.

Harry seethed, and raised his wand. A figure moved towards the gate to open it.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry hissed the words, trying to keep them inaudible.

The iron fence and gate exploded, taking a large chunk out of the house as well which fell to the ground, blocking the path through. _Well, __they __already __knew __we __were __here. _After a moment's indecision, he cast another spell, pointing his wand at the area just in front of the debris, and then spoke to the three behind him in complete frustration.

"Tenaccidus. Fine. You three go along the cliff into the garden to the right. I'll be right behind you."

"I stay-" Ron began.

"No you don't. One of you has to help Ginny and the other protect you from Death Eaters. I'm taking no chances."

"But-"

"Go _on_." Harry urged, and raised his wand again as he saw a shape through the window of the house. "Falxia."

Scuffling sounds signalled that they had left. Harry breathed deeply, and kept his wand steady, scanning the area before him, and straining his ears. He aimed at the backdoor.

"Laminacelo."

He glanced over his shoulder. Ginny was struggling to catch her breath again by the hedge, which abruptly disappeared as Hermione raised her wand. He rose slightly as they slipped through, ready to follow.

The kitchen door flew off its hinges. The spell behind it set off Harry's trap, and the metallic blades sprung across harmlessly. Harry recognised the next spell, designed to search for any other traps, noting the Death Eater's thoroughness. To the side, some of the rubble created by Harry's explosive hex shifted, and cleared. He flattened his fringe anxiously, as he settled back down. _Probably __best __they __didn't__know __they __were __facing __the __Boy-Who-Lived __quite __yet._

He cast another spell towards the rubble, trying to warn that assailant away. One of the men he had seen earlier slipped from one side of the door frame to the other, taking in his position. Harry pointed his wand above the door.

"Rejicia!"

"Protego!" An answering voice rang out – 'Spider''s

"Argh!" An anguished cry rang out as 'Woody' – or rather Wooderson – found her feet refuse to move. She put her hands forward to break her fall, and they stuck to the ground too.

"Stupefy!" Harry cried switching his aim back to the side of the house, and the woman slumped downwards, now completely glued to the ground.

A curse shot towards him from the doorway, only to be stopped by Hermione's ward. He aimed slightly wildly at the house, and cast the spell silently.

_Incendio!_

Waiting only to see that the flames had caught, and the Death Eater retreated, he turned, and raced to the opening in the hedge, and slipped through it. Ginny and Hermione were sheltered in the thinnest of gaps in the hedgerow the other side, but Ron was on his way towards him. Waving him away, Harry turned back to the hole he had come through.

"Manifestus."

His voice had been nearly inaudible, but all of his lessons with Aravenne had taught him that volume did not matter nearly as much as the words, which themselves mattered less than the intent. Their tracks could still lead them to the hedge though, but he couldn't help it, at least, not while they could be surrounded. It was vital that they got themselves into a position where they could only be attacked from one direction, and as quickly as possible.

He gave a quick glance towards the house this garden belonged to, and breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of movement. Voldemort must have attacked with almost all of his followers, judging by how few Death Eaters there had to be. Maybe the number of his followers had been exaggerated. He hurried across towards the others, ready to demand to know why they had stopped. It looked like the cliff face bent around sharply beyond the next garden, where it entered a heavily wooded area, and would lead them away from the village, and towards Slytherin's home.

Ron held a finger to his lips, pointing his wand towards the house. As Harry reached them he realised that both Hermione and Ginny remained this side of the hedge. Hermione slightly further forwards, and Ginny on her hands and knees, gasping for air. He nodded to Ron to show he understood, and inched past both him and Ginny, so that he could breathe in Hermione's ear.

"Are they there?"

Hermione nodded, and shifted back slightly to allow him to take the front. Harry did his best to avoid moving the hedge so as not to risk drawing attention, before pressing his eye to it and trying to spy through the cat's cradle of thin branches and large leaves. He could just about make out shapes through a window, but that was about it. As he was starting to entertain the idea of using his Invisibility Cloak once more, a voice drifted towards him, getting louder.

"-got 'em."

Instinctively, he glanced around frantically, but saw no-one. Ron and Hermione had their wands in a ready position, and over their heads black smoke was billowing up from the house. His head snapped back to the hedge, and he squinted at it once more. There had been the unmistakable sound of a door opening, and the man's voice was now clearly audible.

"-her. I mean, looks like Woody's found them after all judging by that." Harry could see him now, a burly man, pointing towards the smoke. It might have been 'Masher'. "We go and help her? We know there's no-one here." He waved a careless hand to the garden, without looking. "And if they'd escaped from Woody they'd have been here by now. She and Spider might need our help."

"You two go," Wormtail replied, in probably as _un_authoritative a manner as was possible, "I'll keep looking here in case someone gets away."

"Yes sir." The answering voice was amused – and not bothering to hide it.

The man went back inside, closing the door behind him. It looked like he was going to go via the road. Harry thanked his lucky stars the man couldn't be bothered to destroy the hedge, and go through the gardens.

"Harry-" Hermione began in a concerned whisper.

Harry abruptly turned towards her, a finger to his lips, and glared. He turned back, and gritted his teeth. Hermione had unsurprisingly recognised Pettigrew's voice. He inhaled slowly, and returned his attention to where the cliff ended. There was a vaultable fence between the garden and the woods, but Harry feared Ginny would struggle with it. They'd have to destroy it. It was quicker than vanishing it, and they wouldn't have the time. He turned back to them, marvelling at how the burning house had slowed them down. Of course, 'Spider' was the only one in any position to do something about it.

"Right." Harry's whisper was louder than he would have preferred, but they didn't have the time for him to repeat himself. "We need to go around the cliff into those trees. We're going to have to be fast in case Pet-" Harry broke off, as Ginny was once more fighting a coughing fit.

"I- I don't know if I can." Ginny was trying to sound brave, but there was a tremor in her voice. She put her arm to her mouth, virtually biting it in order to mute her need to cough. "You three go first so I don't-" once more, she fought to remain quiet- "don't slow you down."

Ron had already begun speaking, before she had even ended her sentence. He had turned half way through it with a murderous glare in his eyes. Directed at him as well as, or possibly more than, Ginny, Harry thought.

"Stop trying to act like Harry," he hissed angrily, "there is no way you're doing that."

"We aren't leaving you behind." Harry tried to control his own horrified feelings, and at the same time to sound firm.

"I still have the Portkey."

Harry glanced at Hermione, and internally sighed in relief, even as he saw the 'but' form on Ginny's face. "There's no time for arguments. If you get home, you can tell Dumbledore where we are. We need the Order's help. We know they'll be after us soon."

"But they might follow me-" Ginny began, but stopped as she saw Harry nervously looking over her shoulder.

The smoke was lessening.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry plunged into his pockets, thrusting his Invisibility Cloak to her in his haste. When she didn't immediately take it, he dropped it, and fished in his pocket once more.

"Take the Whispering Wire. You'll need it to contact the Order."

"We have to hurry…" Hermione's strained moan trailed off as Ginny took both items, pale faced.

Hermione handed her the stone that was a Portkey. Halfway through a nod, Ginny's face wrenched back to look Harry in the eyes, hesitated, a word on her lips.

"Go!" Ron urged.

"Harry, I-"

"See you soon." Harry interrupted, trying to sound confident.

"Go!" Ron repeated frantically.

Ginny swallowed again, glanced around fearfully, before nodding at Hermione. "Look after each other." As Hermione tapped the stone, Ginny disappeared.

Harry would have tried to slow his racing heart once more, but he didn't have the time.

"You two first, jump the fence. I'll be right behind you." Harry told them.

"But-" Ron began.

"Just do it!"

"No." Ron said firmly. "We need to slow them down."

Harry hesitated. Ron was right; the smoke was nearly gone. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, and then nodded.

Three spells shot towards the hedge, and house beyond, causing explosions, and fire – in Hermione's case, a particularly hot looking white flame, which spread with speed.

A split second later, Ron was past him, quickly followed by Hermione. Pausing only to return the hedge to normal, Harry side stepped, looking carefully at the house. He sprinted after them. A moment after Hermione had climbed it, Harry reached the fence, put his foot on the second strut, and leapt over. He turned as he landed, to stare at the house once more, trying to pick out where Wormtail might be.

"See anything?"

"Yeah." Ron answered from further inside the wood; in a tone that left Harry in no doubt that he felt they should have Portkeyed out a long time ago. "Cliffs and trees."

Harry gritted his teeth and made no response. Part of him – the emotions that were tumbling around inside his head – wanted nothing more than to yell at Ron and slap some sense into him. Stopping Voldemort getting the Scrivenings was more important than any of them. But the last thing they needed to do now was argue amongst themselves. He glanced back. About ten yards away, Hermione and Ron were facing him with their wands out. He turned and sprinted towards them.

_BOOM!_

Harry was about a yard away from his friends when he was launched off his feet; a fraction before he heard the deafening explosion demolish the quiet afternoon. Instinctively, he rolled over onto his back as he hit the ground, winded and wandless. Violently clashing colours rolled across the sky above him, flowing over each other at lightning speed. Harry tried to will himself upright, and blinked. As he opened his eyes once more, the sky turned into a blinding white, burning into his vision, even when he shut his eye lids tightly in response.

Everything went black.

Harry opened his eyes, but for all he could see, he might as well have kept them closed. He rolled onto his front, and forced himself onto his knees, blinking frantically. He put his left arm out to prevent himself from overbalancing, and as he continued to open and close his eyes, colours began to form from the darkness; blurry shapes which could represent anything at all. His hand stabbed into loose rock painfully, and then alighted upon the mangled metal of his glasses.

"You there?" He gasped hoarsely. "I can barely see."

"Yes." Hermione answered as Ron gave a wordless grunt of assent. She continued after a moment's pause, "Harry – I think that must have been the wards going down, but Ginny couldn't have been that quick, surely?"

The blobs slowly refined themselves, both in shape and shade, until he could make out the blurry, lanky, red-haired object which replied slowly. Harry shut his eyes tightly once more, and shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"I don't think they were You-Know-Who's spells, Hermione. Just look around! And what about that? I swear that wasn't there before!"

As Ron turned into something more resembling the Ron Harry knew – at least, if he didn't have his glasses on – he noticed his friend was pointing behind him. However, as he was about to turn, he was caught by confusion. The trees and pine needles had completely vanished, leaving in its place an amalgamation of thin slate and pointed stone, which even now dug sharply into his knees.

"I think..." Ron continued, slowly, in awe, "it was the pendant Dumbledore gave Harry. It was _Slytherin__'__s_ wards that went."

Harry looked down at the stone beneath him in wonder that magic so old could have continued to work such an illusion. His wand was a couple of metres in front of him. Scrambling forwards, he grabbed it, and pointed it towards the glasses in his other hand, muttering 'Reparo!'

Slipping them on, he tried to rise to his feet, but promptly had to throw out his wand hand to catch himself as he overbalanced, equilibrium sorely missing.

Before he knew it, Hermione was beside him, grasping his arm to help his balance. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry blinked before answering, "I can't see properly, can hardly stand, and have a throbbing headache." He chuckled and made a face, but Hermione interrupted in concern.

"You weren't looking straight at-"

"Couldn't really help it. But actually, I think I'm pretty good considering. Come on, let's find the place. Maybe we can hold out until Ginny can fetch the Order, we're sitting ducks out here in the open."

"Harry, Slytherin's home-" Hermione began once more, while allowing him to stand on his own.

"It's right behind you mate." Ron finished quietly.

Harry turned sharply, having to catch himself as his equilibrium threatened to let him down, and stared. About fifty yards away, in a shadowy inset of the cliff face, was the precise outline of a door, and the symmetrical shape of a slightly raised dais before it. He swallowed, and said nothing, knowing that now it was shown to the world, there could be no second thoughts, and that once inside there was no knowing what they would find.

It might be completely empty.

"Come on, then." Ron said eventually.

Harry nodded, and opened his mouth.

A stammering squeak coming from the direction of the village caused Harry to freeze, and then turn slowly, wand raised, and balance, this time, remaining true.

"P-P-P... Potter!"

Ron and Hermione's voices couldn't have blended more exactly if they had tried. "Wormtail!"

Peter Pettigrew stood there, wand shaking in alarm. His whole body, in fact, was trembling, and his step backwards revealed that his squeak had been completely unintentional. Harry's wand, in its turn, rose to point unerringly towards the man who had betrayed both him and his parents. His mind returned to the message on the Marauders' Map, left by a fifteen year old Wormtail. His head swam, and he bit back the curse on the tip of his tongue. He dared not give Pettigrew an inkling that he was not at full strength; even with Ron and Hermione here, it might only take one curse, and Pettigrew had no scruples after all.

"He's not Wormtail." Harry took a threatening step forward and continued in a cold, quiet voice which cut through the air viciously, and caused Hermione to send a glance his way. "_Wormtail_ was a Marauder who would do anything for his friends, and they would have done anything for him. Wormtail would have _died_ for them."

Pettigrew flinched violently.

"Harry, you're-" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her with a sneer in the cowering man's direction.

"He's not Wormtail. He's Pettigrew, whose worthless life is the only thing he cares about."

"R-Rejicia Maxima!" Pettigrew squeaked.

"Mutucutus!" Ron barked in response, shield neutralising the wayward spell before it could speed past Harry.

"Falxia!" Harry's riposte came without a second thought.

Pettigrew dived to the right, ending up face first on the ground as Harry's curse sailed over him, to impact upon the fence behind. As quick as a flash, Harry adjusted his aim to the now cowering man. The light grew muted as cloud cover began to float across the sky high above them, blocking out the sun.

"Harry! No!" Hermione burst out, sounding almost frantic. "Don't kill him! Not in cold blood."

"Don't kill him?" Harry asked, gesturing scornfully. "He betrayed Mum and Dad. He framed Sirius, killed Muggles. If it wasn't for him, Voldemort wouldn't have returned! He tried to kill the entire Muggle Studies class Hermione!" Harry took a deep breath, and then continued and dropped his voice to a level as dangerous as any Snape could come up with, but his blended with pain. "He killed Professor Burbage."

His vision now crystal clear, he took a step forwards, so focussed that everything seemed to be a fraction slower.

"You still shouldn't murder him!" Hermione cried in near terror.

Pettigrew removed his hands from his head, and turned hopefully to look at Hermione. "Kind girl, clever girl. You won't let him kill me, will you? Lily and James wouldn't ever want their son-"

Hermione winced, and he stopped talking, turning his head to stare in pitiful horror at Harry.

"It wouldn't be murder." Harry said loudly, and clearly. As he took a breath, some part of him urged to keep his emotions under control. That regardless of what was right or wrong, simple practicality meant he couldn't afford to lose the strength that a second Avada Kedavra curse would take away from him. "Wormtail asked me to stop him doing anything like..." his voice faltered slightly, "like what he did in Hogwarts again, remember?"

Harry stared into Pettigrew's eyes, which were fixed on his like a rabbit in headlights. He dropped his voice once more, allowing feeling to saturate it.

"Wormtail asked me to kill you, Pettigrew."

Pettigrew whimpered, but for moments there was no other sound. Harry held his wand, but made no effort to cast a spell.

_Five._ The number echoed in his thoughts again.

The flash of jagged green light caught Harry by surprise, and before he knew what he was doing, he began the incantation.

"Avada Ke-"

But while a horrified Harry managed to silence his voice, and tried to divert his thoughts to the harmless Lumos spell, the killing curse continued, and the sickly light shot towards where Pettigrew was lying.

Or rather, had been lying, for a rat could just about be seen scurrying helter-skelter back to the village, leaving a cloud of dirt and a small crater where he had been.

Harry turned with a feeling of relief as uncontrolled as the spell had been, and hissed as he did. "Come on!"

He sprinted towards the door in the cliff, trusting Ron and Hermione to follow. Ron, at least, was matching him stride for stride. A strange feeling tingled through his body as he got within ten yards of the doorway. Sliding to a halt as he reached the rock face, he turned, but saw nothing except for Hermione's ghostly pale face, as she approached a few yards behind.

"What was that?" Ron asked warily.

"You felt it too?" Harry said, a little relieved.

"Someone set a- a ward." Hermione's anxious voice was strangled so violently, the words were almost unintelligible.

"Set?" Ron exclaimed, as Harry centred his weight, and pointed his wand back the way they had come, before reason caught up with him. "Someone's _protecting_ us?"

"It has to be something to do with Salazar Slytherin!" Hermione exclaimed, colour returning to her cheeks.

"Hardly –" Ron scoffed, as Harry turned and ran his fingers over the outline of the door, "– the evil git is dead, Hermione."

"Ron-"

"You two want to help me get inside?" Harry shot, knowing as he did so that Parseltongue was likely to be the only way in.

He winced as a drop of water struck him on the forehead, and looked up to see that the clouds overhead that had so recently blocked out the sun were ominously grey. He looked back down, and glanced around the environs of the door, which remained completely blank, before readying himself to speak the snakes' tongue, anyway.

"Open!" He hissed.

Nothing happened. He shook his head, sure that Parseltongue remained the key to entering, and then made a face.

"Harry!" Ron hissed.

The urgency in Ron's voice caused him to swivel. There, on the other side of the fence, was a masked Death Eater staring around at the changed landscape. It looked straight at them, wand raised, and then looked around, almost searchingly.

"They can't see us!" Hermione said in a choked voice. "Slytherin's ward..."

"What do we do?" Ron asked, glancing at Harry, the drizzle continuing to fall.

Harry turned back to the rockface, looking searchingly at the wall for some kind of handle, and then cursed as he remembered when he, Snape, and Dumbledore had first looked around the Chamber of Secrets.

"Don't tell me Salazar Slytherin needs to be told how brilliant he is here too." Harry muttered to himself in Parseltongue.

As if in reply to the comment the door slid open, retracting into the stone to its side.

"Um, Harry, are you sure we should risk getting trapped inside?" Ron asked apprehensively.

"You two never had to come." Harry snapped, striding forwards, and knowing quite well what had caused his current temper, and that it was directed at himself. "And if they can't see or hear us now, they won't know where we've gone." He stepped inside.

The room was Spartan in appearance: the walls and floor were not only perfectly smooth, but also seemed to gleam for the first seven or so feet up, and not just from cleanliness. It was almost as if they exuded a soft light. Above that height, darkness gave the impression that the ceiling was too far away to gauge, and to the right was a fireplace, which seemed to be a natural fissure in the wall, for surely no artificer – magical or no – could have produced such a seamless finish. The only furniture was a rug of some unknown shorthaired animal skin, in a muted green, and chairs and tables which appeared carved intricately out of stone, legs looking more like carved miniature pillars than anything.

He couldn't see a single doorway.

The door slid shut behind him, but when he glanced behind, he couldn't see where it had been. He turned, and walked towards one of the seats.

"We're trapped." Ron said numbly from behind.

Harry shook his head automatically. "I doubt it. I'll probably just have to say something in Parseltongue. At least we're safe from the Death Eaters."

"Until You-Know-Who comes." Ron answered tartly.

Harry didn't reply, but slid onto the chair, looking away from his friends. Too caught up in his own thoughts, he barely even noticed the stone giving way as if it were the softest cushion. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering why he felt so tired: his body had been through a lot so far today – especially his head – and he had cast not one, but two killing curses, with the second completely uncontrolled. Only Merlin might know how much they had taken out of him. But he knew that they were just convenient excuses for his exhaustion. The real – or at least main – reason was something else. He swallowed, sure that he could taste a faint hint of vomit. The tang of self-disgust.

"Harry." Hermione began tensely, and then stopped. "Harry?" She repeated quietly. "Harry? Are you alright?"

His eyes snapped open. "I'm fi-"

"But you cast the-"

"Yes!" Harry almost shouted the word. "I cast the Avada Kedavra curse." There was that same taste in his mouth.

Hermione shrank back, away from Harry. Away from the murderer. Ron stiffened as though he had been struck by a full body bind. "I thought you were prete-" he began, but trailed off.

In a hoarse, helpless tone Harry continued. "But I didn't- I _tried_ to stop- but-"

He rose and turned, walking towards the wall, trying to look like he was examining the room, and knowing as he did so just how ridiculously poor the charade was.

"I don't think I ever realised how much I hate him." He said quietly into the deathly silence that had hung there as he moved.

"Harry..." Hermione began once more, but the word had trailed off almost before it began.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to get a grip. "I didn't feel like that before, not even when Voldemort came back. I don't know if it's because of what he did to Professor Burbage... I don't know if it's because I've talked to Wormtail on the map.

"I don't understand." He said eventually, turning, swallowing and trying to force his voice to normalcy. "Since these lessons with Aravenne." He paused. _Or __is __it __Regulus __Black? _He shook his head. "I'd been controlling it. I could stop it if I wanted to. But I tried!" He looked at Ron and Hermione, pleading with his gaze that they would believe him. "I tried." He repeated hollowly.

"I think I kn- might know why." Ron's voice was hesitant, and he glanced at Hermione, as if well aware that it was her province. "Harry, ever since last summer, you've been acting like it's up to you to save the world." He stopped, before amending his last sentence: "Or at least Britain. You're asking too much of yourself, mate. You blame yourself more if something happens than you blame the people who did it."

Hermione's posture relaxed as Ron spoke, as if she had been afraid to say it herself – Hermione, who always butted in, no matter what the likely outcome.

Deeply ashamed, Harry stayed silent only because he knew not what to say, and after a slight delay Ron continued, even more diffidently, speaking the sentences in a rush, with long pauses in-between them.

"And... you were scared. You were scared about Ginny. Because you love her."

Harry turned his head away once more, but didn't deny it. The thought flashed through his mind that his refusal to do so would probably be another of those things which would be repeated to a friend even if he asked it not to be. Oddly the thought did not bother him one iota.

"Let's just find what we're here for and get out." Harry said, after Ron's words refused to stop hanging in the air, changing the subject as utterly as he could.

Now Ron had raised the matter, however, Hermione had to have the last word. "You told us that you're trying to stop Voldemort because you want to – not because you think you're the only one who can. So you mustn't-"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and interrupted her. "I'm guessing Parseltongue will let us into other rooms. It's worth a try, anyway."

Hermione shared a glance with Ron, sighed softly, and took the unsubtle hint. Harry however, stayed silent, and looked around the room once more. There were snake carvings on the intricate patterns of the furniture. He moistened his lips with his tongue, feeling an uncomfortable lump in his parched throat.

"Thanks." He said eventually, and then switched to Parseltongue before either friend behind him could respond.

"How do I access other rooms?"

As though it had been waiting for Harry's hiss, a snake, both long and broad, formed on the wall, pushing itself out of the rock itself, and leaving it completely. Ron and Hermione took hasty steps backwards, but he stood firm. The snake fixed Harry with its gaze, black eyes shining.

"Why are you here?"

Harry remembered to breathe, and swallowed to give himself a second or two before he threw himself into the conversation. It was a fair enough question, although perhaps slightly odd to come before a demand to know who they were.

"We're looking for the Scrivenings of Slytherin." Harry hissed back.

"I see." The snake coiled, and swayed its head, never once breaking eye contact with him. "And why are you searching for these said scrivenings?"

"Er, Harry?" Ron asked.

"He wants to know why we're here." Harry replied, not breaking eye contact for a second either, until the snake turned to look at Ron.

It seemed quite unperturbed by the use of English, but Harry fancied the gleaming eyes were assessing them shrewdly.

Ron looked at the snake and then away again nervously. "You aren't going to tell-"

"Of course I am Ron," Harry said with a slight bite, before adding as an afterthought, "besides, it's what Dumbledore would tell me to do."

He turned back to the nameless snake. "Because a Dark –" Harry hesitated, and after a fraction of a second of thought, continued "- an evil wizard wants the knowledge inside."

"An interesting attempt at a distinction..." The snake mused, and then paused. "It fails, however, for evil is also a word whose meaning tends to be, as a general rule, subjective. What is evil for the utterer may not be so for another. Would Salazar have considered the men searching for you 'evil', or would you, perhaps, be the ones to have that honour?"

The snake whipped its body towards the wall through which they had entered, so suddenly that this time they all took a pace backwards. Hermione gasped, even more in appreciation than shock, as the wall completely vanished. A split second later, all three wands were raised, and Harry had to bite back the curse on his lips. Five Death Eaters were outside, some looking towards them, some on their haunches, one looking particularly disgruntled at the rain which was pattering down, but all in the process of spellwork. Pettigrew, Harry noticed, was nowhere to be seen. Behind the Death Eaters a tracking spell had ended, with three sets of footprints disappearing just, Harry judged, as they had reached the spell which had protected them from the Death Eater's sight.

It must have been this snake, this... guardian, that had raised the ward. Even Dumbledore had underestimated just how well protected this place might be, and right now, Harry was feeling distinctly grateful for that fact. Although, if the snake wished, it could undoubtedly show the Death Eaters just where they were, so the protection they had gained might be temporary, to say the least.

Ron stepped forwards and rested his hand where the wall had been, so that it looked as though he were trying – and failing – to push thin air. He made a disgusted sound.

"Great. So we're at the mercy of a snake made by Slytherin."

Harry glared at him, but it was Hermione who answered. "Ron – can't you take our word for it, just this once, that Slytherin was not the same person people think he was. There is no way he'd agree with what Voldemort is doing."

"Didn't seem to stop him creating that Basilisk, did it? Or Voldemort using it to kill people."

"Kaen and Shiakana ordered it not to look at people directly, Ron, it was meant to scare – not kill. On Slytherin's orders." Hearing the viciousness of the bite in his voice, he closed his eyes and shook his head in apology. "I'm sorry, I'm just... stressed about everything. As you just pointed out. Please – just trust us."

"Trouble?" The snake hissed calmly.

Harry turned back to the snake again, and, if it were possible to, tried to gauge the expression of a poker faced snake made out solely of rock, and animated by magic. Was he imagining a hint of comprehension on the snake's face? Did it understand what they had been saying? Was this a test? Kaen and Shiakana couldn't understand English, he was pretty sure, but this familiar had been created later, when Slytherin knew even more magic...

_What __would __Dumbledore __say? __That __the __truth __is __my __friend, __of __course_...

Harry hesitated, regardless of that thought, before speaking. "Nobody today really knows anything about Salazar Slytherin. After he left Hogwarts, no-one had a clue where he was, or what he was doing. So stories grew up about him, saying he was a Dark Wizard. Ron grew up hearing them, and still believes some of them."

"You will next say that those outside also believe these stories you speak of," The snake observed, "but tell me, why do you believe that these stories must be falsehoods?"

"I..." Harry spoke slowly, eyes on the snake. "I've spoken to Kaen and Shiakana, and I've also read a diary written by Pierre Moreau." He gestured towards Hermione. "She read the diary too."

The snake stared back unblinkingly at Harry for a few moments, calculating. The delay made Harry wary, and he readied himself to strengthen his mental defences if necessary.

"You are young. Very young." The snake spoke at last, musing. "There is much I must know about three such youthful magicians, before deciding if Salazar would wish me to help you." It paused, and then added thoughtfully: "Especially as it was not one of you to challenge the wards surrounding this place." Giving Harry no chance to respond, it continued decisively, waving its tail at a concealed door behind it which swung open from the wall: "Go through this door. If you dare proceed, I shall learn more of that which I require to know."

Even as it began its final sentence, it dissolved back into the wall, and was gone.

"What happened?" Hermione inquired tentatively.

"That's where the Scrivenings are?" Ron asked dubiously.

"I'm... not sure. I'm guessing not. I think it's some kind of test."

"Test?" Ron echoed. "Or do you mean trap?"

Harry sighed. "It said if we dare go through that door, then it will learn more 'of that which it requires to know'."

"So. Trap then." Ron summarised.

Harry glared at him. "Is there anything that might persuade you that Slytherin wasn't as bad as you think he was?"

"Well, one of us has to be suspicious – you two seem determined to believe Slytherin was really a good guy, just misunderstood."

"Ron, if the snake wanted to kill us, it could have just let the Death Eaters in." Hermione pointed out.

"True." Ron admitted reluctantly. "But let's be honest, a test made by Slytherin would probably be the same as a trap laid by anyone else."

Harry grinned. "Don't worry Ron, I only think he's not as bad as people think, not that he won't use dirty tricks."

"That's a relief." Ron muttered, while Harry continued.

"What should we do about the Death Eaters outside though? Did you notice Pettigrew wasn't there? Maybe one of us-"

"Leave them." Ron's reply was immediate. "There's three of us, five of them, and if Wormtail's gone, maybe he went to get You-Know-Who. We're all going into whatever that snake's got ready for us. That or none of us go, and we leave now."

Harry looked at the two determined faces of his friends, and nodded. "Let's go then."

He strode over to the doorway, and looked at the short, blank corridor the other side. It could only have extended six or seven foot at most, and was only a few feet wide. He glanced at Ron and Hermione again, who were also studying it. They nodded once more, and he stepped forwards with no small trepidation.

Whatever he had been expecting, it didn't happen. He stepped forwards twice more to face the bare rock at the end of the passage. Behind him came the sound of the door shutting as Ron and Hermione had followed him in. He tensed again.

"Now what?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Try Parseltongue?" Ron fingered his wand as he made the suggestion.

Harry nodded, and drew breath.

The luminous walls blinked out. Pitch blackness. Neither Ron nor Hermione made a sound, and Harry reached behind him to check they were still there. His hand flew through thin air. He opened his mouth to call for them, but could make no sound. Panic began to overwhelm him as the silence grew louder and louder. Abruptly, he lost his balance, fell, twisting, and put his hands out to break his fall. They made no contact with the ground, but rather he continued to fall; rotating and spiralling quicker and quicker, head beginning to ache from the sheer speed of the whirl – throbbing ever more painfully – each pulse reminding him of the punishment he already taken that day, even as blotches appeared in front of his eyes, blurring, and becoming more and more fuzzy...

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

– Harry! Harry! –

The voice floated through Harry's head, picking up echoes on its way – male or female, Harry couldn't tell.

– Why isn't the enervate spell working? –

– Harry, wake up –

The sound washed over him, each wave of a sentence bringing him closer to consciousness.

– Hermione: why isn't the enervate sp- –

Harry registered the voice as being male.

– I don't know. I don't understand it, I'm sure I cast it properly! –

A female's voice, although the tone faded and changed pitch slightly as she spoke. Harry latched onto the name the male voice had said, and held tightly. Hermione! The male? Ron.

Harry fought to open his mouth to speak, although he felt like his lips were stuck together. Water slid gently – gratifyingly – in, and loosened his lips enough to make a sound.

"Ugh."

He forced an eye open, but immediately closed it again. Two bright circles of light illuminated otherwise pitch blackness. One limned Ron's head, but the other – which had caused him to shut his eye so quickly – was close to his mouth, showing Hermione's face and outline behind it.

"Too bright..." He muttered, still sensing the light from behind his closed eyelids.

"Oh. Sorry." The warmth of the light retreated as Hermione spoke. "How do you feel?"

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position as he opened his eyes, still slitting them slightly against the light. He blinked as his mind started to speed up.

"Not bad actually –" His answer was interrupted by a scoff from Ron, but he continued immediately in surprise. "No – seriously. I just feel like I've woken up. From a _really_ deep sleep. I think my head might even be feeling better." He got to his feet, his steadiness allaying his friends' doubts.

"Don't tell me." Ron said rolling his eyes. "You think Slytherin actually sent Harry unconscious in order to help speed up his healing process."

Hermione laughed slightly at this, but quickly stopped. "It is odd though," she admitted, "as far as we can tell, Ron and I just appeared here, and the most we felt was a bit of dizziness."

"But me? I didn't appear with you guys?" Harry asked.

"No, no, you did," Ron told him, "it's just you sort of, well, just slumped to the ground. No idea why we didn't."

"Maybe it's to do with where we were standing?" Harry suggested. "You know, I just got hit by whatever it was more than you did."

Hermione shook her head, looking both worried and confused. "Slytherin just did something I didn't think was possible. He moved us from one place to another without a Portkey or Apparition. Surely he would have made sure the spell covered the whole of that corridor evenly, even if he just had to make the corridor smaller."

"Your guess is as good as mine." Harry shrugged and lit his wandtip too. "Better, probably. So where are we, except underground?"

"No idea." Ron replied. "To be honest, we haven't really looked."

Harry nodded with a slight grimace. He paused, and tried to imagine a snake. "Light."

A whooshing sound came from behind him and they all turned to see a green torch flame into life. Five yards either side, another torch spontaneously lit, until they were surrounded in a circle. As the circle completed, more torches lit behind a couple of them off to the side, bursting into life two by two.

"Slytherin really likes showing off." Harry observed, as a long, curving strip of rock was illuminated by the flickering green light. Barely four yards wide, nothingness flanked it as far as the torches could show them – both to the side, and up and down.

He glanced at Hermione to his left, who was staring at him in amazement. Ron had a similar expression beside her.

"How did you know that you could just use English?" Ron demanded.

"What?" Harry asked in slight confusion and then grinned sheepishly. "I meant to speak Parseltongue. Guess I'm not as practiced at changing to it as I thought I was."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, Ron grinned, and then looked around.

"What now?" He asked.

"It looks like the only way out must be down there." Hermione sounded distracted and looked around in an air of confusion. "I'm sure – I _know_ – those torches weren't there a minute ago. I was standing where one of them is. I even walked round some of the perimeter.

"You didn't notice that, either." Ron pointed out with a grin, gesturing to the ramp leading downwards, where, if the torches were still appearing, they were too far below them to tell.

"Yes, well, I tried not to get too close to the edge," Hermione said slightly defensively, "but you don't miss hulking great staves of iron coming out of the ground. I j–"

"Hermione." Harry interrupted her with a smile of his own. "About the only thing I'm sure about the kind of person Slytherin was, is that he was vain, and liked to show off."

Hermione shrugged in reluctant agreement, but her expression of concern remained. "But-" She paused, and looked as though she was going to raise more objections, but then shook her head. "You're probably right Harry, it's just..." She trailed off.

"So..." Ron said into the momentary silence. "We going down there then?"

"Where else? Just be ready for anything." Harry shrugged slightly, stretching and loosening his neck muscles.

Ron took a deep breath. "Everyone ready?"

Hermione nodded. "You okay, Harry?"

Harry smiled slightly at their lack of movement towards the path. "Yes. Hang on – are there Apparition and Portkey wards up in case we need to get out?"

"We don't know." Hermione said.

"You don't – haven't you looked?"

"You try, Harry." Hermione told him, brow still furrowed, and then continued as Harry opened his mouth to say something else. "Just. Try. You'll see."

Harry shrugged and readied his wand. "Comperio Apperum."

Nothing happened.

"Comperio Apperum."

"I don't know how he's doing it!" Hermione burst out. "There's no way– He shouldn't be able to! You can't just stop people from casting spells like that. Even if you could, you'd have to leave a sign – any sign – of the charm you are using to stop it."

"If you say so." Harry inhaled, a little more nervous himself now. "So some of our spells might not work, and we have no way of knowing beforehand."

It was a statement, not a question, and so a tense silence was his only reply.

They shared glances, and then walked cautiously forwards to the path leading downwards into the distance, with no real concrete idea of what might happen, but only a certainty that something would. They peered over the edge carefully. The path curled round in a spiral, another line of torches could just about be seen behind and below the first curve. How far down it went they couldn't tell.

Ron muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and then stepped onto the sloping rock. An ominous rumble split the air, causing them to look up into the blackness as one. Ron removed his foot as though it had just been placed on hot coals, and jumped backwards, but the rumble continued.

"What-?" Ron began, staring around.

The ground begun to shudder gently, and Harry had to fling out an arm to steady Hermione. He stepped forwards purposefully, wand out.

"I don't think doing nothing is a good idea. Come on."

Ron and Hermione jogged the five yards to catch up, whereupon Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.

"Wait." She pointed her wand vertically, and enunciated clearly: "Solas."

The light arrowed out of her wand, and upwards, striking a rocky ceiling at some unknowable distance above them. It burst into light, which slowly faded away, showing a shuddering ceiling.

"Some kind of earthquake?" Ron hazarded. "But the ground isn't shaking much."

"I think we should run." Hermione said in a tight voice.

Ron and Harry shared a glance. Ron nodded, and sped into a trot. He led, Hermione was second, and Harry took up the rear. The path was both perfectly smooth and precisely sloped, meaning that they had completed the first circuit before they knew it. The platform Slytherin had transported them to sat on a spire of rock, around which they were orbiting – each spiral larger then the last. Ron shouted, and pointed with a glance over his shoulder, and although the words were lost under the increasing din coming from above them, his meaning was clear. Two circles below them, the path levelled into a semi circular clearing, which ended at a door set into a cliff face. Hopefully whatever this test was would end there.

Harry nodded at Ron's second glance, and resisted the urge to run faster. Hermione was both the slowest and least fit of the three of them, and pushing her too fast too soon could be disastrous.

A horrific screech split even the deep rumbling above them, causing Harry both to flinch, and then look up, a fraction of a second before he was flung forward, as the ground beneath him seemed to push upwards. He automatically curled into a roll, but spiralled as he struck Hermione, and ended up flat on his back.

He got to his hands and knees as the ground continued to judder beneath him, checked his balance, and scrambled back towards Hermione, who was sprawled with her right leg caught beneath her in an unnatural manner. Ron was already there, and as he moved her, Harry saw her mouth screw up as she bit her lip to stop an outcry of pain. He looked away. It was obviously broken.

"My wand." Hermione panted her request, and Harry located it and gave it to her.

Hermione swallowed twice, and pointed at her leg in a remarkably steady grip. "Episky."

Nothing happened.

"Episky. Episky." Hermione repeated, the third time a sob catching in her throat.

A loud crash split the air, and Harry spun his wand to point at the ceiling. A spell was unnecessary, for the torchlight showed them all they needed to know. The ceiling was descending, crushing the platform they had minutes ago been standing on, and continuing to grind downwards.

"We'll carry you." Ron said unhesitatingly, and bent to lift her onto his shoulder, without even waiting for Harry.

The two of them lifted her up, eliciting a gasp from Hermione's white face.

As the ceiling descended, the spire of rock disintegrated, showering the upper path with fragments large and small, and dust which floated into their mouths and noses as they ran. Harry and Ron struggled downwards, searching for a speedy rhythm, as they half carried the gamely hopping Hermione, who gasped in pain at each impact.

The descent passed in a blur – never managing to gain time on the dropping ceiling, but not losing much time either. All around them rock was falling onto the path before rolling into nothingness where it dropped to the bottom. If there was a bottom: for all they knew it went on for ever. Twice Hermione was unable to avoid putting weight on her injured leg, the second time as they ducked a piece of flying debris and eliciting a shriek of pain. Harry and Ron lifted her around the waist, so she was virtually sitting upon their shared arms, and staggered on towards the platform, which by now was littered with huge pieces of stone.

As they reached it Hermione let out a warning shriek, and Harry found himself pushing her forward and turning automatically, two words on his lips, wand in front of him.

"Protego Maxima!"

The large pillar of rock slammed into his shield, flinging him backwards and sending shudders of pain throughout his body.

"Reducto!" Ron yelled.

A bright light shot towards a second boulder, splitting it in two, and sending it flying backwards into another falling monolith which teetered slightly, and fell short of them creating a crater in the path they had just scrambled down. Harry fought back to his feet, taking in Hermione's grey face, and near motionless body as he did so.

Now that they were on a large expanse of ground once more it was no longer a matter of merely avoiding the falling hazards and then forgetting about them, because they continued to bounce towards them rather than falling to obscurity. Harry reached down and gripped Hermione's right arm.

"We have to get her to the door!" He bellowed.

Without wasting time trying to make himself heard over the rumbling, Ron just bent down and took the semi-conscious Hermione's other arm. They dragged her backwards unceremoniously, desperately avoiding the look of pain on her face. The ceiling was still descending: lower and lower until no more boulders fell towards the semi-circle of rock they stood upon.

A couple of yards from the door Harry was forced to let go to bat away a rock which was rolling towards them, and stood up, brushing his head on the ceiling. He turned swiftly, and pulled at the door. It didn't budge.

"Alohomora!" He was already speaking the next incantations without waiting to see if it worked or not. "Oscul Majora! Reducto! Falxiardor!"

The door didn't swing open, and the two destructive spells barely dented it. The fiery slash of the latter didn't even threaten to light. Harry mind was momentarily blank, and he was forced to bend as the ceiling continued to descend.

"Try an explosive spell!" Ron yelled. "I'll raise a shield!"

As Harry took a couple of steps backwards, Ron's lips moved and a bluish dome appeared around Harry's two friends.

"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry said – or thought he did, he couldn't hear the words.

The light from his wand struck the lock of the door, and it buckled under a backlash which threw Harry backwards despite the fact that Ron's shield absorbed most of it. Abruptly, all the light went out. The green torches that had been illuminating the cavern had been extinguished by the ceiling. Two lights appeared simultaneously as Harry and Ron lit their wands. Forced into a crouch, Ron nonetheless managed to kick at the door, which finally fell into a dark room. Harry scrambled forwards, hunched over, grabbing Hermione's arm once more, and heaving backwards.

Suddenly, the resistance lessened and he fell backwards into the chamber beyond. Fighting back to his feet once more, he – and Ron who had Hermione's other arm – pulled her deep into the room, safe from the blank face of rock which was sliding down the last two feet the other side of the doorway.

Harry and Ron let go, panting, the lights of their wands fading away into darkness once more. Harry slid back down to the ground.

"Light." Ron gasped after a few seconds.

The room gently lit up in a soft white light emanating from the walls, reminiscent of the first room they had entered in Slytherin's home. Trying hard to concentrate, Harry took in the bare room – ten foot by ten foot, and with only one exit now that the second doorway showed just impenetrable stone – and then shut his eyes once more as he tried to catch his breath. His head had suddenly gone fuzzy, and started to swim with vertigo. He rolled to his side, and opened his eyes. He felt like he needed to vomit. He momentarily lost track of time as he forced himself to breathe in and out slowly, and willed the nausea to leave.

"Is Harry alright?" Hermione's voice asked weakly from behind him.

"I think so. You were in a worse state, so I haven't checked on what's wrong with him yet." Ron's reply was filled with concern.

"I'm fine. See if you can help Harry, he looks ill."

"Do you think You-Know-W-"

Harry rolled to his back once more, and quickly rolled to his opposite side to look at Ron and Hermione as the nausea returned. "Nothing to do with Voldemort. I'll be okay, I just felt really –" he searched for the right words but quickly gave up "– well, my head was swimming and I felt like I needed to throw up. I think maybe I've had too many hits to the head or something."

"If you've got concussion we need to get you out of here and seen by a Healer as soon as possible, Harry. Ron, the strengthening spell you used on me should help him at least." Back supported by the wall, Hermione pointed her wand at her leg and took a deep breath. "Episky!"

As before, nothing happened.

"What do Muggles do to heal broken bones?" Ron asked. "Maybe you should try that?"

"They don't, really," Hermione answered in a strained voice, "they immobilise it and let it heal itself. It takes weeks."

"Weeks?" Ron exclaimed. "But…"

Hermione repositioned herself with her hands and interrupted in a voice intermingled with gasps of effort and pain: "I'll make a splint – like Remus did for you in third year."

She conjured a plank of wood out of thin air, and gently brought it alongside her broken leg, wincing as it made contact. She steadied herself in slight trepidation.

"Sure you don't want either of us to do it?" Harry asked, as Ron's charm started to take effect, and most of the dizziness left him.

"I'm sure." Hermione replied with such absolute finality that Harry suspected she didn't trust them to do as good a job at it.

_She was probably right._

Her leg and the wood gently rose into the air, where a bandage softly wrapped around them. A twitch of Hermione's wand, a slight whimper of pain and a wince later, the bandage tightened firmly, and the leg rested on the ground once more. Hermione breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

"Still determined to go on, then Harry?" Ron asked, in a voice carefully toned to casualness.

"Of course." He scrambled to his feet." But maybe Hermione should try to Por-"

"I'll be fine, Harry. I'm more worried about your head. Head injuries are dangerous." She used the wall to help her to her feet as she spoke, and conjured a crutch for her left arm to lean on while she kept her wand clenched in her right hand. "But I know you won't want to leave now – and we don't even know if we can Portkey away."

She hobbled to the door guarding the one remaining exit. "Come on."

"You sure you shouldn't have a bit more of a rest first?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Sooner we get this done the better." She replied without looking at him.

Ron offered him a shrug, but said nothing, before hurriedly getting to the door ahead of Hermione so that he could open it. White nothingness, however, prevented them seeing what lay the other side of the door. Hermione pointed her wand at it, but her spells merely passed through it to no effect.

"You didn't expect that to work, Hermione?" Ron asked rhetorically. "Slytherin wouldn't want to spoil the surprise for us, would he? So, anyone want to guess what's next?"

"Just try to imagine it's first year again –" Harry grinned, "I couldn't stop you coming along then!"

"Getting old, really, isn't it?" Ron replied. "The three of us being all that stands between You-Know-Who and world domination and all." He smiled dryly. "Mind you – I could just about deal with, say, a few broomsticks and flying keys next."

Hermione shook her head slightly – probably in disapproval, Harry guessed – and he grinned even more widely, before slipping in front of her too.

"Let's cast shields before going through. Just in case."

Ron nodded, and then added: "Let me go first, I'm in better shape than either of you."

Harry and Hermione made no objection, and Ron steeled himself, cast a protective charm, and stepped through.

"Go on, Harry." Hermione said a mere couple of seconds later as he gave Ron time to get away from the doorway on the other side – he didn't want to knock him over as he jumped through.

Harry glanced at her and frowned. Her eyes were narrowed and mouth pursed. "Are you sure you're-"

"Yes, go on." Hermione interrupted curtly.

Harry took a breath, and stepped through purposefully.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry let his shield dissolve as he looked around. Five paces ahead of him, Ron was also looking around warily, and Harry walked forward to join him. The room was narrow but quite long – or perhaps merely a very wide corridor – with smooth marble slabs under foot, and walls which stretched upwards at perfectly sheer right angles. In front of them was a large stone door, and in front of it was a huge statue, an ugly brute which resembled Grawp, hunched over, half kneeling on the ground. So big was the figure that it looked like it could touch both walls with its palms at the same time.

He and Ron appeared to be the only living creatures there.

The sound of Hermione's crutch caused them both to look around, and she emerged from what looked like solid rock. Harry strode back to her, and gently pressed the wall with his hand. It felt solid too.

"I guess we're not going back, anyway." His comment was greeted only by the slight rolling of Ron's eyes that signified: 'typical'.

"Any ideas?" Ron asked.

"It's something to do with that, anyway." Harry pointed at the statue. "It has to be."

"It certainly isn't likely to be as simple as an Alohomora charm." Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "We might have to get closer to see it better. At least it looks like we don't have a time limit for whatever we have to do this time."

Ron glanced upwards reflexively. "You really don't care about tempting fate, do you?" He grinned at the slight smiles he had provoked. "Come on then. Let's go slowly. Stay well behind us, Hermione."

As they got halfway across the room the statue started to move with a groan, causing them to stop dead and warily watch. It ponderously raised first one fist from the ground, and then the other, and then stiffly got to its feet. Once it had drawn itself to its full height, it stopped once more, staying completely stationary. Its face was absolutely devoid of features, but judging by the proportions of its body it was facing them.

The three of them exchanged glances.

"I'll get a bit closer," Ron suggested seriously, "you know, see if I can see anything." When Harry and Hermione shared dubious glances he continued. "If that thing over there tries to crush me, I'm expecting you guys to shield me, 'k? One of us has to get closer, anyway – we've got to get through that door, haven't we? And we've got to figure out how to, too!"

"Ok." Harry nodded. "If you're sure."

Ron walked forward carefully, wand pointed towards the statue. As he reached it, he paused, staring at it, as though expecting it to make a sudden move. He sidestepped past it, keeping his eyes on it at all times. The statue's featureless head turned to follow his progress, causing Ron to give a start, and Harry's palm to grow a little moist.

Ron continued however, and the statue did nothing more, even when Ron turned his back to it and began to examine the door.

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans. He glanced at Hermione, and caught her eye before returning his attention to Ron.

"However we get through the door, that golem has to be involved somehow." She said quietly.

At the door, Ron tried a few spells without effect, glancing back at the stone creature each time, nervously, as though expecting it to respond.

"A golem?" Harry asked, not moving his aim from it for a second.

"I think that's what that must be: a stone creature that evil wizards used to protect their darkest secrets, or guard prisoners or such. There are tales of them in Wizarding children's stories. Ron could probably tell you more about them. Some of them were really big, like this, but others were more like homunculi that –"

"English, Hermione." Harry interrupted as Ron started running his hand over the stone door.

"Think of them as robots but powered by magic." Hermione replied after a slight pause.

"So they're programmed what to do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I thought they only existed in fairytales."

Ron turned back towards them, carefully walked back past the golem, and rejoined them.

"If it's a door then I don't know how to open it." He told them. "As far as I can tell it's just part of the wall – it looks like it's just joined to the ground and sides and can't be opened. There's nothing on the door apart from this."

Ron bent to the ground, and mimed an anti-clockwise spiral, four lines deep.

"It's engraved on it, but touching it did nothing, and as far as I could tell there's no charm or anything on it. Any ideas?"

"It has to be something to do with the golem." Hermione repeated. "Do you know anything about golems, Ron?"

Ron made a face. "Just what everyone knows, all the things Mum and Dad told us as kids. Maybe we should just ask it for a hand?"

"The picture on the door was this, Ron?" Harry asked, tracing the spiral in the air.

"Yeah, why?"

Harry let out a deep sigh. "Because I think I know what we have to do. That's the wand motion for the Imperius curse."

Neither Ron nor Hermione responded, although Ron's mouth was half open as though he had tried to.

"How much do you know about casting it, Harry?" Hermione asked eventually.

"A bit," Harry admitted, "but I've never tried it before, obviously. That book Aravenne signed out of the Restricted Section for me that had all the wand motions and things? I got it out again – I needed it for my Occlumency – so I've studied it a bit. I'm guessing I know more about it than you or Ron, anyway. Wish me luck."

He took a few paces forward, and took a deep breath. _Well, __I__'__m __getting __used __to __casting __the __killing __curse__ – __what__'__s __another __Unforgivable?_ He swallowed, and pictured the wand movement in his mind, allowing all other thoughts to slide away in order to achieve the focus that would be needed to cast the spell.

"Imperio!"

Absolute darkness struck Harry hard. Overwhelmed by the deafening silence, and the painful solitude, he recoiled mentally.

He stepped back, and stumbled to the ground.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, and Ron ran forward to his side.

Harry shook his head, and responded immediately: "No, I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting that feeling. The spell worked okay I think, let me try again."

Ron gave him a hand back to his feet, and Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to recapture his concentration. Moving away from Ron once more, he tried again.

"Imperio."

Ready for it this time, Harry made no effort to fight the nothingness that his mind inhabited. Instead, he took a few moments to accustom himself to the feelings. The more he relaxed, and did nothing, the more he acclimatised to the sensations. Remembering the instructions he had read, he gradually asserted his own being into the surrounds, but to his surprise there was no resistance. He had expected more of a struggle.

Keeping the connection, Harry withdrew to his own body once more. The scene reappeared in front of him as though he had blinked. It was strange, for part of his mind remained in the golem, albeit a part that could not see, hear, or smell. Had it not been for his Occlumency, Harry could not imagine he could have managed it. He concentrated intently.

Ahead of him, the golem turned towards the doorway, and walked forwards. With a long back lift of its right arm, and a rhythmic descent, it struck the obstruction with an explosion, opening the way through.

Harry momentarily suffered disorientation, and his head swam once more as it had in the previous room, and he slumped to the ground. By the door, the golem literally fell apart, as the rocks corresponding to each limb crashed to the floor, and then disintegrated to dust.

He accepted Ron's hand up gratefully. "That was surprisingly easy."

"Easy?" Ron replied, dubiously.

"Well, it's an Unforgivable and I'd never even tried it before." Harry pointed out.

"I know, Harry," Hermione said, as she hobbled up to them, "something's wrong. This whole thing doesn't make sense."

Harry grinned. "I could just be really good at magic."

Hermione gave him a look of amused forbearance and shook her head. "Come on."

She took the lead, causing Ron to scramble forwards to get in front of her once more. Harry winced, and then caught them both up. They carefully walked through the doorway, avoiding the jagged edges left by the golem's punch. They turned at a right angle to see what could have been an identical room. In front of them was another stone behemoth, and just behind it was another stone door.

"Same again?" Ron asked.

"Can't be. It has to be a different spell – Slytherin isn't going to have two identical tasks, is he?" Harry replied.

"Okay. I'll go and check the door. Maybe the next spell will be on it." He pursed his lips slightly at the frowns. "Look, I'm still the fittest of the three of us."

"Just – be careful." Hermione warned him. "Harry's right, this might look the same as the last room, but it will be different."

Ron rolled his eyes, and held up his hand in mild irritation. "I'm not completely dense, alright?"

He walked forward resolutely, but this time when he got to the half way stage, the golem didn't move, despite his expectant pause.

Harry, who had followed five yards behind, glanced back towards Hermione. She was leaning on the crutch, but watching carefully, wand extended. She nodded at him and he turned back to Ron once more, who had again stopped in anticipation. Harry waited as he walked forwards.

"Mutucutus!" Harry yelled suddenly.

What exactly had warned Harry, he perhaps couldn't have said, but as the golem sprang to life, and swung an arm in a tremendous blow towards Ron, a shield appeared, absorbing much of the impact. Ron still flew backwards through the air, striking the ground hard and rolling over, until he came to a stop against the wall. He scrambled to his feet once more, rather off balance, and joined Harry in casting spells towards the stone creature.

Curse-light shot from their wands to strike the golem, and it momentarily recoiled, but otherwise the spells had no effect. Harry's explosive curse seemed to all intents and purposes to be absorbed – although the golem rocked backwards, there was no explosion, and it moved quickly forwards towards Ron. Harry sprinted forwards at an angle, so that he was the opposite side of it to Ron.

"Let's just concentrate on one of us getting past it." Harry yelled. "We might need it intact in order to get through the door."

"Well we aren't getting anywhere trying to dest-" Ron stopped shouting, cursed, and jumped backwards, avoiding a fist.

"Protego!"

Ron's shield joined with one from Hermione, and as the palm swiped back towards him, it slid off them both, leaving Ron panting, but unharmed.

"Tenaccidus!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand towards the ground the golem was standing upon.

The feet struggled to move, fighting against the glue. As the right foot slowly lifted, and moved towards Harry, Harry dashed along the wall, diving forward as the golem aimed a crushing blow towards him this time. It crashed against the wall, pieces of which flew through the air towards Harry only to be stopped by a shield raised by Hermione from the other end of the room. Harry lay prone as the stone limb passed back over his head as the golem prepared to strike again, before launching himself forward like a sprinter, racing towards the door.

Somehow he knew what was going to be on the door before he could make out the engraving, and the confirmation of it instantly told him there would be one more room to pass, and just what that engraving would show.

He contorted his body round and bellowed the curse that went with the lightning bolt on the door, falling backwards as he did so: "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light shot towards the giant, which, now that it had escaped the glue, was advancing upon him at a frightening pace. As the killing curse struck, the boulders that made up the creature – as in the previous room – simply fell apart and disintegrated, the head rolling to Harry's feet before turning to dust.

As Harry and Ron became aware their panting was the only sound in the room, a grinding noise came from behind Harry's back. He pushed himself upright once more, and turned to look at the door. It rose slowly into the air, disappearing into the rock above it.

As Hermione's crutch sounded on the floor all the way behind them, Ron walked noiselessly to his side. He sounded serious when he spoke.

"You know what's going to be next, don't you Harry?"

Harry nodded. Ron had obviously come to the same conclusion he had,

"Slytherin wants me, or rather one of us, to use the Cruciatus curse. Yeah, I know."

"You're thinking you can think of a way around it?" Ron asked sceptically.

"Maybe if I think long enough about it, yeah. I really don't want to cast that spell. I mean, it's all about wanting to cause pain, isn't it?"

"I-" Ron began hesitatingly, "I'm willing to try if you want. I mean, the wand motion's going to be on the door again, right? I know the word, I'll know the wand motion, I've got as good a chance of doing it as anyone, right?"

Harry shook his head, "Neither you nor Hermione have ever tried casting it before. If anyone has to do it, it should be me."

"Like you've tried casting it before either." Ron scoffed.

Harry cut him off before he could say anything else. "But I've cast the other two, right? I know how to generate the power to cast the killing curse, that's going to help."

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked as she hobbled towards them.

For a moment, Harry was afraid that some expression on his face or other body language had betrayed his dirty little secret: that he had indeed tried to cast the Cruciatus curse once before. There was no way he wanted anyone to know about his confrontation with Bellatrix Lestrange a year ago. His confusion must have shown for Hermione elaborated immediately.

"That was the third time you cast the- that spell today, wasn't it? And you just had to cast the Imperius curse too. Are you alright?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, I'm fine. Maybe I'm getting used to i- No I didn't mean it like that, Hermione!" Harry said hurriedly, as he thought he saw Hermione's eyes narrow in concern. "I just meant maybe I'm getting better at casting it so it doesn't leave me as tired. I'm just not looking forward to the next spell I'm going to have to cast."

"Harry, don't y-" Hermione's crutch slipped slightly, and she sucked in a breath of air as her face screwed up with the pain caused by inadvertently putting all her weight on her bad leg. As Ron moved towards her, she frowned in irritation. "-ooh… I'm okay, Ron, it's my own clumsiness."

Ron put his hands up in mock submission. "Just trying to help. Why are you so worried about the Cruciatus curse, Harry? I mean, it can't be as bad as the killing curse, right? Remember what Aravenne said – magic isn't Light or Dark, it's just the way people use it that is."

"You saw Neville's parents." Harry said quietly. "Whenever I see Neville talking about them I think how much crueller the Cruciatus curse is. As for Aravenne…" He trailed off.

Harry didn't know what to think about Aravenne. He wanted to tell his friends about what had happened in King's Cross, but didn't want to distract them from the task at hand. Aravenne wasn't helping Voldemort, of that he was pretty sure now, but there were so many more questions to be answered now than there had been a day ago.

"Look, if anyone would have found a problem with what Aravenne said about magic, Hermione would have, and she didn't, right?" Ron pressed.

"She seemed to change her mind once I started practicing the Avada Kedavra curse." Harry pointed out.

"Just because I think something is true doesn't mean I can't worry about whether I'm right or not, Harry. What Aravenne said makes a lot of sense – a lot more than the conventional view." Her tone was rather short, and Harry looked at her in concern.

"Hermione..." He trailed off, he was well aware that telling her to relax could arguably increase her tension. As the pause lengthened, he became aware he ought to say something. "You aren't worried what will happen to me if I cast the Cruciatus curse?"

The hesitation in his voice seemed to strike Hermione forcefully, because her entire tone shifted, and it was her turn to look apprehensive about his state of mind. "No, I'm not Harry. I can't think of anyone less likely to abuse that type of curse than you."

Harry looked away, thinking how at odds that statement seemed to be with her shock at his having cast the Avada Kedavra curse earlier.

"She's right – we trust you not to, but you've got to trust yourself too." Ron told him. "Anyway, remember that this is a golem, too, it can't actually feel any pain, it's not like using it on a living creature."

"I'd still rather not use it."

"I offered."

Harry gave a reluctant twitch of the mouth. "Maybe we'll be able to think of another way to get through, anyway. Let's go."

As expected, when the three of them walked through the door, they were faced by a room identical to the previous two. With one exception – there was no door behind the third golem, just an archway.

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be as easy as it looks?" Ron asked rhetorically.

"I don't suppose you could transfigure something to make sure the doorway stays clear, could you Hermione?" Harry asked, but without much hope.

"We're too far away, you know that Harry. And anyway, without knowing what might close it off to us, it would be hard to do."

As she finished talking, Hermione tried to hide a grimace of pain.

"Ron and I will check it out," Harry told Hermione, "maybe you should try to rest your leg."

He and Ron advanced cautiously. As in the first of these narrow chambers, the golem stirred as they got to the mid point, slowly clambering to its feet. After a brief pause and a shared glance, they stepped forwards once more. The golem moved to meet them.

At the doorway, a stone door slammed to the ground, the sound reverberating throughout the room, and closing the way forwards. Harry threw out a hand to stop Ron.

Silently, he pointed his wand at the door. "Avada Kedavra."

The bright green curse shot towards the door as quickly as it had ever left Harry's wand. Nothing happened. The door absorbed it.

Ron took a step backwards. "That's impossible! You can't shield against the Avada Kedavra curse. You just can't – no-one can stop it. The door should have been destroyed!"

Harry felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach as his fears that Slytherin would have prevented them finding an alternate way around his task seemed to be realised. He shook his head resignedly and then retreated a pace to rejoin Ron. As he did so, the golem also retreated.

"Now do you see why we need to find Slytherin's Scrivenings before Voldemort can? I mean, look around. What could Voldemort do just with the magic Slytherin must have known to make this?"

After a couple of seconds of silence, Ron decided not to reply. "I'll go and check the door – just to see what the wand movement is, yeah?"

He took a step forward, whereupon the golem also moved.

"Wait!" Harry said quickly. "Take a couple of steps back. Please – just do it."

With a quizzical look, Ron did so, and they slowly returned to the middle of the chamber. As they did so the golem also retreated, and once it returned to its initial position, the stone slowly ascended once more, leaving the way clear.

Hermione's crutch sounded behind them, and they turned to meet her.

"One of us obviously has to disable it with the Cruciatus curse."

"Obviously," Ron replied, "like I said before, Harry, I'm willing to give it a go."

Harry sighed. "Ron, you even said you didn't want me to teach you the Avada Kedavra curse, didn't you? Well this is worse. It's going to have to be me – I've the best chance of doing it."

He glanced at Hermione, daring her to disagree. She didn't.

Harry readied himself, and practiced the wand motion for the curse. It was a short, sharp, jerky motion that used all three dimensions as it spiked off in what looked like random directions. Whether it was the complicated gesture, Hermione's silence, or something else, Harry didn't know, but Ron made no further protest.

"Crucio!"

The golem twitched, and fell onto its hands and knees, the rocks making up its limbs striking, and grinding against each other, but whilst the resultant noise was painfully loud, it was not writhing as victims of the curse usually did.

"_Never __used __an __Unforgivable __Curse __before, __have __you, __boy?__" __Bellatrix __Lestrange __yelled. __She __had __abandoned __her __baby __voice __now.__ "__You __need __to _mean _them, __Potter! __You __need __to __really __want __to __cause __pain__ – __to __enjoy __it__ – __righteous __anger __won__'__t __hurt __me __for __long__ – __I__'__ll __show __you __how __it__'__s __done, __shall __I? __I__'__ll __give __you __a __lesson__ –"_

Harry's spell ended abruptly, and the golem got back to its feet, where it remained motionless once more.

Pale, and shaking, Harry's attempts to recollect himself were interrupted by Ron's anxious hand and Hermione's anxious voice.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

Harry shrugged off Ron's steadying palm, and forced himself to take a step backwards where he could turn away from his friends and gain a modicum of privacy.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione insisted after a couple of seconds pause. "Are you –"

"I'm fine." Harry said a little sharply. "As for what happened: well it didn't work, did it? I'll have to try again."

"Mate, you look bloody awful." Whatever expression was on Ron's face, Harry couldn't tell, he was still looking towards the wall. "Did it remind you of something?"

"Yeah." Harry answered. "Nothing major – it took me a couple of times to get the Imperius curse to work too, didn't it? Just give me a moment or two."

"Remember what Professor Aravenne said:" Hermione told him earnestly, "you don't have to enjoy causing pain; you just have to really want the curse to work. And we need this spell to work if we are going to get to Slytherin's Scrivenings, and get out of here before V- Vol- Voldemort shows up."

Harry exhaled, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Right then…"

He turned to face the golem once more, but didn't meet either of his friends' eyes. Hermione was right, it was absolutely vital that he cast this spell. There was no guarantee that they could Apparate or Portkey away from here – wherever here was – and even if they could, he knew that they couldn't afford to allow Voldemort to get his hands on the Scrivenings. Not only would his mother's protection in all likelihood be stripped from him, but the kind of things Voldemort might learn could well mean even Dumbledore would be unable to stop him. What were the reasons for his reluctance to cast the Cruciatus curse in comparison to what would happen if he didn't cast it?

He closed his eyes, visualising fluttering Golden Snitches in his mind, and forcing them this way and that until he was satisfied. He coloured them an electric blue. Opening his eyes once more, he spoke the incantation firmly, wand movement mirroring the picture in his mind.

"Crucio."

The difference was immediate. The golem fell backwards to the ground, limbs striking each other so powerfully that it chipped itself, stone flying through the air.

"Come on Hermione!" Ron yelled as she and Harry stayed rooted to the spot. "You too Harry."

Hermione hobbled forwards, Ron walking quickly just in front of her, and throwing glances back towards her and Harry. Harry found his arm shaking from the effort of holding the spell, and used his left hand to steady his wand. He, too, walked forwards, never taking his eyes or his wand off the stone creature, even though to do so he had to first sidestep around it, and then back away towards the door.

Whilst Harry found it difficult to maintain the connection, for the connection between wand and target was an unstable one and the wand fought to flick away, and thus end it, the spell itself was taking disconcertingly little energy to cast. A yell from Ron told him they were at the archway, and mere moments later he too was through, and could allow the spell to finally end.

The door slammed down in front of them as the golem got to its feet once more, and Harry stared at the granite slab silently. He had now cast all three Unforgivables successfully. He had cast them successfully, and felt perfectly able to do them again. A number of times.

He wanted to throw up.

There was a short silence, as though neither Hermione nor Ron knew what to say. There were two things Harry did not want to hear them say at the moment and he wondered if they realised them: 'How are you?' and 'Well done'.

"What next then?" Harry asked with a sigh, and turned around to see them both looking at him.

The room they were in was small, had no other exit that he could see, and was illuminated by torches – two sconces to each wall.

"Pretty obvious, I guess." Ron said with a shrug, pointing at the floor. "Three circles, three of us."

Ron was gesturing towards three blue, chalk-drawn rings on the ground.

"How on earth could Slytherin know there would be three people going through these tests?" Hermione exclaimed.

"I don't know." Harry replied, feeling a little tired – even if his magic still seemed to be fresh, they had been in perilous situations virtually all day. "I guess I'll ask the snake when we've finally jumped through all his hoops. Let's just get through it as quickly as possible."

Ron grinned. "I expect Hermione will give you plenty of questions to ask it at this rate. Well, I'm ready whenever the two of you are."

Hermione hobbled into the centre circle – there was something about her that made Harry a little uneasy. He didn't know if it was merely nerves, or something else, but she seemed to him to be acting a lot more rashly than normal since she had broken her leg. Unfortunately it seemed that any spells to help her further with the pain were somehow prohibited.

Ron was already in the left hoop, so Harry walked to the right one.

As he centred his weight in the middle, crackling fire – the colour of the chalk – shot from the circle, surrounding him, but before he could raise his wand to cast a spell, it had vanished – and so had the room.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He was standing in a dead end of a corridor that stretched into the distance. On each wall either side of him was a glowing blue line, which, along with a similar line on the floor illuminated the passage. Ahead of him, it split into two – one passage going left, and the other going right.

"Hermione? Ron?"

No-one answered his shout.

Harry jogged forwards. If, as it appeared, they were in a maze, and if, as was probable, there were dangers they'd have to face, then Hermione was in a lot of trouble. He turned left at the junction, and kept moving, taking the next left. The passage twisted and turned, before he abruptly hit solid stone. With a hiss, Harry turned and backtracked. As long as he kept taking the left turn, he wouldn't get lost, but in doing so he might take a lot longer than necessary to find his friends. He only hoped that Ron was doing something similar, and Hermione was staying put behind some defensive charms.

Although, he thought, a couple of minutes later, as he was starting to breathe a bit heavier, he hadn't met anything dangerous ye-

A man screamed in the distance. It was an animalistic scream, one that Harry associated with just one spell. The Cruciatus curse.

"Ron!" He gasped – although, in truth, the scream could have been anyone's.

He sprinted forwards, to be met by three junctions. He hesitated. A second scream sounded from just ahead, and he took the centre one.

He skidded to a halt as he rounded a bend.

In front of him, Hermione had her wand pointed at Ron, who was writhing, and screaming in agony.

Harry's mind stopped working, and for a long moment he stared at Hermione's back. She no longer had the crutch with her, although the splint was still attached to her leg, and her wand arm shook like Harry's had done earlier, as she concentrated on keeping it pointed at her target.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted eventually, raising his wand in a shaking hand.

She jumped, surprised by the interruption, and half turned to look at him. He saw enough of her face to see she was smiling, as though – as though she had been enjoying it. Her wand jerked away from Ron, and the curse ended, leaving Ron moaning in agony on the floor, curled into a foetal position.

"Hermione! What are you doing? What-"

Harry stopped talking, for Hermione had raised her wand once more, pointing it back at Ron.

"Mutucutus!" He burst out, and it joined Hermione's voice.

It sounded as though Hermione took an intense, almost sensual, pleasure in the two words she spoke, and her intonation was as precise as it ever was in a classroom.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green light shot from her wand, arrowing towards the prone body of her boyfriend, cutting through Harry's shield as if it weren't there. It struck Ron in the chest, and he moved no more.

Harry froze in absolute disbelief; in an incredulity so complete that it could only have been his body's natural reflexes, or his subconscious, that caused him to sidestep when Hermione's wand pointed towards him, and her smiling lips lovingly repeated two words.

"Avada Kedavra."

The spell shot past him to hit the wall, and for a long moment he stared into Hermione's bright, aware eyes, not knowing what to do.

Harry took two steps backwards, as Hermione eyed him, wand now by her side, before he turned, and ran.

He sprinted through turnings at random, not knowing what route he took; not even knowing what, exactly, he was doing apart from running; until he rounded a corner to be met by a dead end. Panting, he slid down the wall, until he was virtually hugging his knees.

Ron was dead. Ron! Dead!

Harry found himself shaking his head, unable to believe it, unwilling to accept it. He was incapable even of forming the words to describe how he had died; who had killed him; how his killer had looked as the deed was committed. His worst fears had not only been realised, they had been surpassed.

And now what? She had cast the spell at him, also. Surely she would be searching for him next? And a simple tracking spell would lead her straight to him. He had to think. He had to forget that Ron… that he was… He shut his eyes tightly.

The scene floated in his mind – Ron writhing on the ground, as the Cruciatus curse struck him, and then his feeble attempt to curl into a defensive ball as Harry's appearance interrupted it. And then Hermione – Hermione! – had seen him, before she turned back to Ron. She smiled –

Harry opened his eyes, he was sweating. He couldn't afford this. If he allowed this to consume him, then he would die. And Hermione would die too, whatever was making her do this would surely kill her. He could still save Hermione. He had to hold on to that. He needed to concentrate – Hermione would be coming for him, he had to think of a way to protect himself. He was trapped against a wall, with no way out, and were Hermione to point her wand at him, and smile like she had at Ron, before saying the words-

With an almighty effort Harry, as he had to before, concentrated on his Occlumency to keep the memory at bay. His head swum with sickness, and the vertigo he had suffered previously, but he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. A loud _SNAP!_ sounded from somewhere, and Harry looked up, head suddenly free of nausea, but now feeling a slightly surreal disembodiment, as though he were slightly disconnected with the rest of his body. He shook his head, and suddenly everything was clear again.

_Something was wrong._

Footsteps sounded from in front of him, and Hermione rounded the corner, walking stiff legged, still without her earlier crutch and as absolutely no pain showed on her face, Harry understood. She pointed her wand at him, and without any ceremony spoke those two words for a third time.

"Avada Kedavra."

A feeling of certainty flowed through Harry. Concentrating hard as her lips moved, he knew what he had to do, even though he personally had never done it before. Everything made sense.

As the green light of the killing curse exited Hermione's wand, a second loud _SNAP!_ filled the air. The curse struck Harry in the chest.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The blackness was complete, apart from Harry's body itself, which could not have been more precisely defined and shaded, as he floated in mid-air. Harry readied himself once more. Five seconds ago, the killing curse that had left Hermione's wand had hit him, without doing a thing, as he knew it would. He had destroyed the rule governing the Unforgivable Curses, after all. However, as he had been concentrating his Occlumency defences towards returning to that narrow corridor they had been in in Slytherin's house, he had appeared here instead.

"Wait!" The snake's voice hissed directly in to Harry's head.

Harry turned around to see a gleaming python curled up, the only other visible shape in the darkness. Its image, too, was perfectly illuminated. Harry stared at it, and tried to contain his anger by inhaling deeply.

"Why?" He tried to ground out the word between his teeth, but instead the word echoed inside his head, and, he was sure, the snake's, too.

Before he had created his Occlumency Sanctuary, the inside of his mind had looked just like this.

"Your two friends are both in perfect health."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I know. I interrupted your Legilimency, remember? That's not a great reason for me to wait before leaving."

"You came here, seeking my help." The snake reminded him.

"And it's obvious that you have no intention of giving it, so I guess we'll have to find some other way. You can't stop me leaving."

"That is yet to be determined." The snake's reply was sharp, as though trying to rebuke him. "Anger and resentment is a weakness you shall have to curb if you are to remain alive."

"Is that a threat?" Harry shot.

"It is a warning. One you would do well to attend to, for else your mistaken inferences shall likely lead you towards disaster. Far from deciding to obstruct you, I have chosen to gift you the information you seek. Salazar's Scrivenings shall be yours to utilise, and share with the Wizarding World. Indeed, your companions have already received my aid."

"Really?" Harry asked, staring at the snake in undisguised scepticism. "That was aid? Possessing one of my friends to kill the other. You think the memories of that's going to help either of them?"

"Just so long as they heed the lessons, they shall."

"And what lessons, exactly are they? And me? Wha-"

"As you instructed your society this very morning, there are some lessons that are conveyed the most effectively by experience. As regards my actions as pertaining to you, there were things I wished to discover for myself.

"You have less of Godric's weaknesses than I had feared, but you too have failings that can be addressed."

It seemed to Harry that the snake was studying him to see how he would react. He decided not to give it the satisfaction of a knee-jerk response. "Obviously I have failings – I'm human, aren't I? But you hardly needed to test me – you had your Legilimency to tell you whatever you needed to know. I didn't even realise you were doing it until the end."

"You are young, and your knowledge is lacking." The statement was curiously flat, as though merely a factual observation. "You do, however, have a willingness to learn. That I have seen. I did not perform Legilimency upon you. I tested your defences, and decided to yield to prudence. Your friends, how-"

"Then what was that we were just in?" Harry demanded. "Our minds were linked, weren't they?"

"Legilimency is not the only way to link minds together." The snake replied, unperturbed by his interruption. Presumably it had foreseen his likely reaction to its actions. "Indeed, Legilimens can only link their mind with one other's. You and your friends were caught inside a charm created by Salazar, in which I had control. From there I was able to construct your environment, and utilise the skills of Legilimency upon your friends. Whilst I was given an impression of your character whilst assessing your friends', there were still things I could not know about you, and given your own mental defences, caution seemed advisable."

"Caution." Harry repeated the word dismissively.

"Encouraging your mental defences risked alerting you to the reality of your situation. That I wished to avoid, for reasons which should be readily apparent. Indeed, I did my best to discourage you from using them."

"And you're satisfied with what you know now?"

"The day one is satisfied with one's level of knowledge is the day one stops learning. I am satisfied with my decision.

"I shall open the door to Salazar's study. Within are two volumes. I trust that you will be able to unlock the secrets within. Certainly neither of your companions will."

"What is that meant to mean?" Harry demanded immediately, but the snake merely hissed wordlessly in response.

"If you are unable to do so then you are less worthy than I believe." It answered eventually as the question hung there.

Harry's eyes narrowed once more. That hadn't answered his question, but he obviously wasn't going to get an answer. "So are you helping because of me, or because you disagree with Voldemort?"

The snake swayed, looking at him appraisingly. "An interesting question. Perceptive, perhaps. The man you call Voldemort has many admirable qualities, but, it is true, he has some flaws I cannot overlook. In pursuing his ambitions he threatens the existence of our race, and that is a price unacceptably high. I am also unconvinced as to the strength of his grasp of reality. As such, his avowed motives are suspect – something you would do well to remember. He also appears to have an unhealthy faith in superstition." The snake finished distastefully.

"Salazar Slytherin did not believe in the truth of prophecies then?" Harry inferred.

"They have their uses, but are certainly not foolproof. As guides to past events, they are often times invaluable. Indeed, one thing particularly interests me about the nature of the prophecy which links the two of you, and that is the nature of the ability you have that your enemy does not comprehend. If you manage to discover it, I should be interested to talk to you a second time."

Sensing that the snake had come to the end of what it wanted to say, Harry hastily asked: "What will you do when Voldemort comes here himself? Now that we've broken some of the charms shielding you?"

"He will be unable to find me." The snake said, and, with that, Harry found himself in the narrow corridor he, Ron, and Hermione had been in before they had been caught up in Slytherin's charm. The Legilimency had been lifted.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Ron and Hermione were slumped against a wall, either side of the small corridor. Stopping just long enough to check for the warmth on his hand as he held it by their mouths, Harry slipped past their unconscious bodies back to the initial room, wand raised; and swivelled in order to examine it for Death Eaters. It was empty, however, and the external wall was no longer transparent.

On the wall to the right, another doorway had appeared. With a hasty glance towards his friends, Harry approached it cautiously. The room beyond was small, and Harry suspected was protected by a charm of some sort, for there could surely be no reason for it to be completely bare of any decorations, or objects. In the centre of the room was the snake, and inside the snake's curls lay two books.

The snake rose, swayed, and then, with a wordless hiss, slithered to the wall, where it dissolved into the rock.

Hermione screamed.

Harry leapt backwards with a start, and ran the couple of yards to the passageway. She was sobbing hysterically on her knees beside Ron, hands held helplessly by his head. Harry couldn't make out the words she was saying.

"Hermione!" He said, loudly. "Hermione, it's okay. It wasn't real. It didn't actually happen."

She didn't hear him – or at least, he got no reaction. He walked forwards slowly, gently calling her name. Only when he placed his hand softly on her shoulder did he get a reaction, and she turned her head to look at him, tears streaming down her face.

"What have I done?" She asked, devastated. "I- I ki-" She frowned as though she couldn't say the word, as though saying it would make it somehow more real, but as Harry opened his mouth she continued. "I killed him. Harry, I k-"

Harry shook his head quickly. "You didn't, Hermione. He's alive. It wasn't real."

Hermione blanched, and then continued speaking as though she hadn't heard him. "He's dead, Harry. I cast… I- The Avada Kedavra curse – but you saw, you were there… And I…" She paused in confusion, but Harry thought it best to let her finish. "I cast it at you… It didn't do anything… and we weren't… here. Was it your mother's protection? But it didn't rebound. I just- I don't…"

"Hermione," Harry began, in a firm but concerned voice, as she trailed off once more, "I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Hermione turned back to Ron, extending her hand towards him but drawing it back before she could actually touch him. She wasn't showing any interest in Harry, and he had to squeeze her shoulder to regain her attention.

"Please, listen to me. Ron is okay. He's just unconscious. Trust me. Hermione, please just listen for a minute. Listen and think."

Hermione looked back at him, with a hopeless expression behind her tears. She nodded, but without any real belief.

"Good. Now, nothing that just happened to you was real. We're still in Slytherin's home, in the cliff, okay? We're still in that passageway. We never went anywhere else. All three of us – our minds were in a charm that Slytherin made. We were all there, doing things, but nothing there was actually real. It's like… like we were all having the same dream."

"But…" Hermione replied, as though not understanding what Harry was saying.

"Okay, you remember how you couldn't understand how Slytherin was doing things, yeah? How he transported us there in the first place, or how he stopped us casting some spells? Well, that's because it wasn't real." Harry forced himself to speak slowly and clearly, trying to transfer calm to his friend. "It was just in our minds, and the snake's, and in your mind the rules of the real world don't apply. You can do anything, even stop people using some kinds of spells."

"So… but, Ron-" Hermione responded in confusion, she had stopped crying, now, and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Ron's fine." Harry told her. "He's just unconscious. The enervate charm will wake him up."

Hermione sobbed again, perhaps by reflex, and she looked down, and for the first time saw the colour in Ron's cheeks, and, tremblingly, felt the pulse in his neck.

She checked again and started, in incredulous relief, before sitting back upon her heels, closing her eyes. "He's…"

Harry breathed deeply. Hermione was now rummaging in her pockets, and withdrew a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. She made a sort of nervous sound of happiness, before she searched the ground furiously for her wand. Shaking off Harry's hand, she grabbed it, crawling across to it, and then back to Ron's side, where she checked Ron's pulse for a third time.

"Enervate." Hermione's voice was both scratchy, and shaky, but the light from the curse left her wand and embedded itself in Ron, barely a foot away.

Ron blinked his eyes open, and, with a wordless yell, hastily pushed himself backwards, away from Hermione.

In the pandemonium that briefly followed, Harry could think of nothing he would rather do than destroy Slytherin's stone reptile.

"I'm sorry." Ron panted at last, palm outstretched to keep Hermione away. "I must've just had a nightmare. That's all. It was just real realistic."

"It wasn't a nightmare." Hermione said, in a fragile voice.

Ron managed to grin, lowering his hand slowly. "Trust me, it was. I wouldn't be here otherwise." He winced in remembered pain and shuddered. "I don't think I've ever had one like that before."

"Ron, I-"

Harry interrupted Hermione. "I'll explain it all later. For now, whatever just happened, didn't really happen. We've pretty much got what we came for, so let's get out of here and back to the Order, and safety."

"Harry, what-?" Ron began.

"We all had the same nightmare." Harry said in explanation. "But the snake's decided to help us – or give us the Scrivenings anyway – so we can get out of here and then worry about it all. Voldemort might be here any time, we've got to go."

"Oh, right, yeah." Ron said, picking himself up, still convinced that he had dreamt everything. He shook slightly, and shot a glance at Hermione, who looked ill.

Harry bit his lip, and turned to jog to the other room and pick up the two bound volumes. He needed to get Hermione to someone who knew the right things to say. Dumbledore, preferably, but he was sure Ginny or Remus, say, would do a better job than he could. He had done his best, but had no idea what to say any more. The two large books were hard backed, and locked by two intertwining snakes. Harry wondered if there was some sort of metal in the covers, for the volumes were really rather weighty, and carrying them both took two hands. Even then they threatened to slip out of his grip.

As he left the room once more, he heard the door close, and he didn't need to look behind him to know that it would look just like the rest of the wall again.

"Those are the Scrivenings?" Ron asked warily – he was looking around warily, wand in his hand.

"Yeah. 'Least I think s-" Harry cursed, as the lower of the two volumes inexorably slid out of his grasp and fell to the floor.

"You could always give him a hand, Hermione…" Ron grinned, but his smile faded slightly as he looked at her pale face, and slightly lost expression.

"I'm sorry." Hermione said quickly, and bent to pick up the book. She studied it, but more in a sense of duty than curiosity.

"Hermione," Harry began concernedly, "I know it's hard, but try not to think about it until we're back in safety. All that matters is that we're all safe, right?"

"Did the snake tell you if it's safe outside?" Ron asked Harry, his attention drawn away from Hermione by practicalities.

Harry shook his head, and then stared at one of the snakes on the furniture to enable him to speak Parseltongue. "Can you make the wall see through again so we know who's outside?"

Abruptly, they could see outside once more, and the outline of a door appeared in the wall. The snake's voice hissed menacingly in response.

"Leave at once."

"I think we've outstayed our welcome." Harry said, in response to his friends looks.

Outside, just two people stood in the pouring rain, one facing away from them, the other looking at the cliff face, but wearing one of the balaclavas that designated an Order member.

Ron's face split into a wide grin. "Let's go."

He strode to the door and walked through it as it opened on its own, walking jauntily as though he couldn't imagine anything other than being greeted as conquering heroes. As the acrid smell of burning filled their noses, Harry could only hope that the losses caused by coming to their rescue here in this village that Voldemort had taken over would not be laid at their door. _They __probably __should __be, __but __what __else __were __we__… _I _meant __to __do?_

Hermione walked out the door after Ron, hugging the book to her chest, worryingly robotic to Harry's eyes, and as she saw the ashen remains of the buildings they had set on fire, she stopped, causing Harry to jump to one side to avoid her. Her face looked like it might have gone a little green.

"Hey!" The man's voice rang out from in front of them, wand raised suddenly as Ron reached about the area that the charm had shielded them from the Death Eater's view.

Ron stopped dead, and held up a hand. "It's okay! It's just us."

The man's wand shot towards Hermione, as she started moving again, and reached Ron, and then Harry as he joined them, before it lowered once more.

The blurred head shook from side to side. "Merlin's beard! Harry Potter. And you must be Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger! You're safe. You gave us quite a fri-"

Ron turned towards Harry, smiling widely, and water dripping off his already wet hair, but his expression froze abruptly, and the man suddenly shouted an alarmed query. A split second later, Ron lunged at Harry, pushing him to one side, just before something clattered into Harry's back, and for the second time that day, he felt a hook tug his navel.

Harry screamed, as agonising pain wracked his body.


	38. An Unexpected Power

**Chapter 38: An Unexpected Power**

Harry did his best to push himself to his hands and knees, stubbornly trying to hold onto consciousness through the pain. A body lay beside him, unmoving, but he couldn't turn his head to see who it was. He again tried to lever himself up, but although his brain was telling his body it needed to move, it didn't have the strength. Every molecule of him ached, and every drop of the rain which pounded down from above sent shockwaves through his bruised body.

Two hands cautiously rolled him over onto his side, as though unwilling to get too close. Harry found himself looking at two muddy boots beneath a long, nondescript, black cloak. The person crouched down, and Harry tried to get a glimpse of their face out of the corner of his eye. It had one of Dumbledore's balaclavas on top of it, and was doubly shielded by a hood. When the figure rose once more, it held the book of Scrivenings Harry had taken. It looked at the body beside him for a few seconds, and then back at Harry.

When it spoke, its voice echoed, as though far away, and sounded distorted. "Leave here and take your friend with you. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be here soon."

As the person turned, Harry could do little but gasp for air. His limbs were aching, and it was only when his fingers brushed against his dropped wand that he managed to move more than his hands. He grabbed hold of it, and slowly turned towards the body beside him. With an almighty effort he raised his wand, and pointed it at Ron, but when he spoke, his voice seemed strangely detached.

"Enervate."

As the spell light left his wand, he finally fainted.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Harry – you okay?"

Ron's voice didn't sound particularly 'okay', itself. He had crouched down beside Harry, wand grasped tightly between white fingers, pointed at the person he had just revived.

Harry nodded; the pain that was left, bearable. "Thanks."

Ron shook his head. "No need. What happened?"

"Someone Portkeyed us here. They took the Scrivenings, and…" Harry stopped speaking as he got to his hands and knees.

He had looked around, and seen where they were. To the left of the lawn they were on was a driveway, covered with small pebbles and meticulously smooth, as though no vehicle had travelled along it since it had been laid. To their right were a number of fruit trees – a miniature orchard laden with ripening apples and plums. Ahead of them was a house, but one which looked recently damaged – two of the window frames on the upper floor had been forcibly removed, leaving big holes and jagged brickwork, and the rest of the windows were virtually glassless, with just a few jagged edges visible around the frames. A wide strip of grass ran alongside the right of the house, where it joined the garden at the rear seamlessly. Behind them was a Muggle road, and along that road, Harry knew, would be other houses in the village.

"Harry?" Ron prompted.

Rather than responding, Harry rose, and walked the few yards to an overgrown plaque set into a brick wall by the gate. A quick scrubbing charm cleaned it so that it was legible.

_Chaser's Rest._

"It's my parents' house." Harry's voice caught slightly in his throat.

There was a slight pause of silence, before Harry hurriedly began to speak again.

"We need to get the Scrivenings back, and get out of here. There's got to be a ward up to prevent us apparating or Portkeying – I'd bet anything that's what hurt so much on the way here. You stay here and break it – I'm going after whoever took the Scrivenings."

"I'm going with you, Harry." Ron told him, eyes flashing.

Harry shook his head. "That Death Eater – or whoever brought us here – they said Voldemort's coming. Stay here and break the charm so we can leave immediately. You're not coming with me – not after Cedric."

Ron's eyes narrowed, and he frowned, but didn't argue. Instead he changed subject. "Why are we still alive and free?"

"What?"

"If a Death Eater took the Scrivenings why didn't he kill us, or at least tie us up?"

Harry shook his head dismissively. "I don't know. Look, it doesn't matter. What matters is we _are_ free. Get hidden, and break the charm – I'll be right back."

Ron glared at Harry. "You expect me to break wards set by You-Know-Who?" He asked in incredulity.

"Just remember what Aravenne said," Harry told him, "you don't need to bring the ward down completely for us to get through it."

He hastily pointed his wand at his glasses and performed the Impervious charm, before turning to the ground about to perform a tracking charm. He didn't have to: the wet ground clearly showed where the thief had gone. With a glance at Ron, who was still looking unimpressed by Harry's orders, he jogged after the tracks towards the house, wand raised, and ignoring the dull ache which had replaced the searing agony after Ron's healing spells.

Harry peered around the corner of the house carefully, before quickly retracting his head. A few feet along the wall was a jagged hole which led inside the house. In fact, most of the wall at that side of the house was missing, the broken brickwork showing just how powerful the explosion must have been, with just a few yards of it left intact in the middle and at the ends. The tracks led through the hole in the wall, leaving muddy footprints on the tiled floor. Harry raised his wand, and cast a shield charm, before walking around the corner.

The man – and now Harry had a chance to see their tall, thin stature he was sure the person who had stolen the Scrivenings was a man – was seated on a pine chair in what Harry recognised as having been the kitchen, with his wand raised, and book on the table. Although Dumbledore's balaclava blurred the features of the man, Harry could tell by his mannerisms that he was nervous. Terrified, even. It was that which stopped Harry from casting a spell immediately.

Perhaps the hesitation cost him, for the man jumped to his feet and raised his wand. Harry watched him warily for a moment, ready to react to the inevitable spell.

The man, however, spoke in a voice which still sounded distorted – leading Harry to guess it must be caused by a spell designed to disguise the speaker. "Leave. I told you to leave. You-Know-Who will be here soon. Take-" He paused to swallow, "-take your friend and leave. He'll kill you both."

"Sure," Harry replied, warily, "just give me back that book and I will."

"I can't. If I give him this, he won't hurt my family."

"Even though you let me and my friend escape?" Harry asked. "You don't really believe that." He left it as a statement rather than a question.

He took a step forward, into the house and out of the rain. To his left a metal spike protruded from the rubble of the wall across the gaping hole – it was where the oven had been, and Harry imagined it must have exploded, causing the pipe to melt into the jagged spear in the resultant heat. The former pipe struck his shield as he passed it, not giving an inch. The man, however, didn't take advantage of the slight loss of balance Harry suffered, and Harry took another step before the man spoke again.

"Stop there! Don't come any closer. He- he said- You-Know-Who just asked me to get the book for him. He said I didn't have to kill anyone."

"And who are your family?" Harry asked. "Maybe I can help keep them safe."

"You!" Even through the voice distortion spell the man was using, Harry could hear anger. "Harry, you are-" The man stopped talking.

"Who – are – you?" Harry asked dangerously. "I didn't know we were on first name terms."

"Potter," The man responded, "we aren't friends. You're just famous."

The lie was pitiful.

"Stupefy. Impedimenta." The two spells rolled off the tip of Harry's tongue, but the man had immediately cast a defensive spell, knowing they were coming.

It absorbed Harry's stunning spell, but the second struck the shield hard, forcing the man to step backwards, right into the kitchen table. A hand shot up to keep his hood in place, before he lunged behind him, grabbing the book off the table, and holding it cradled to his side with his left hand as he returned his wand hand towards Harry.

Harry, however, was weighing up his options. He didn't want to hurt this man, who was yet to cast a spell in return towards him, unless he had to. He had fought Death Eaters a number of times now, and this man, whoever he was, wasn't a Death Eater. He was pretty sure he wasn't a duellist at all.

"Accio book!" Harry cried.

There was no reaction from the Scrivenings – it was obviously warded against summoning charms.

"Just go!" The man pled. "Go and take your friend to safety."

He sidestepped towards another hole in the wall further down the room which would lead to the outside. Harry guessed he would try to flee. Harry might have let him go, but whilst the man had the Scrivenings, Harry couldn't let him escape; even if, as he was sure it would, saving the Scrivenings meant that this man and his family – whoever they were – would suffer as a result.

_Expelliarmus!_ Harry thought, and then spoke the incantation for the next spell: "Tenaccidus!"

The man jumped out of the way, and both spells sailed past him to strike the opposite wall, the second covering it in a blue, sticky substance. The man was likely to make a mad dash for it at any time, and although Harry was reasonably confident he could stop him, he'd rather not take the chance. He tried to distract his attention by continuing to talk.

"Voldemort won't help you if you let me escape. You know that."

The man – who had recoiled at Voldemort's name – shook his head desperately. "He promised I wouldn't have to hurt you. And if he'd known you'd… He wouldn't expect me to hurt your friend."

"Do you know where we are?" Harry demanded. "We're in my house: where he first tried to kill me. He'd be furious if you let me escape. He'd torture you and anyone you're trying to protect, and then he'd kill them."

"That's not-" The man yelled.

A loud crack split the evening, cutting across his frantic shout. The man jumped, staring past Harry.

"Accio balaclava!" Harry said, before glancing around himself to see what had happened, but he saw no-one.

The white face-covering knocked the man's hood off as it flew into Harry's left hand, and he looked back to the now unmasked man, revealing flaming red hair. He almost dropped his wand; he did drop the balaclava.

It was Percy Weasley.

Harry just stared at him as the balaclava dissolved into nothing, and then quickly concentrated on his Occlumency, sure that he must still be in Slytherin's cave, and in another charm of the snake's. Nothing happened, however. This was real. Percy took a couple more steps to the exit.

"You!" Harry managed at last.

Percy looked away, and took another step. He wasn't far away at all from the second hole now, but Harry was still struggling to get his head around it.

"You've betrayed us all? You're betraying your family, everyone who cares for you, the _Ministry_?"

Percy raised his wand and pointed it towards Harry. "I'm doing this _for _my family, Potter! He promised that if I did this for him, he wouldn't hurt any of them."

"Of course he did!" Harry said in angry disbelief. "That doesn't mean he means it. You… You moron – how can someone so clever be so completely, utterly thick?"

"He's already shown he meant it!" Percy retorted. "He only destroyed Fred and George's shop when they weren't there, so they weren't hurt. He said if he hadn't changed the wards, Bill and Dad would both have died when that jinx was set off while Bill was breaking it."

"Even if that were true it'd just be because you're still useful to him." Harry shook his head, incredulous. "Give him this book and he's not going to need you ever again."

Percy shook his head. "I made sure I could trust him first. I'm not stupid, Harry."

Harry shook his head once more. "Percy, if I have to, I'll hurt you. I can't let Voldemort get that book – if he gets it we're screwed. We're all screwed. _All_ of us."

"I did this knowing I might get sent to Azkaban, Harry. I did this knowing I might be Kissed. You don't scare me." As he spoke, Percy took a few more steps away. "I'd do _anything_ for my family."

Despite what Harry had said, he wasn't sure he had it in him to cast a spell to actually hurt Percy, but he had to do something, and quickly. He just didn't have a clue what.

"Look, Percy, if you give me the book, we can all get out of here, and we beat Voldemort. Sure you might need more protection against him, but at least you aren't going to be known as the person that single-handedly let Voldemort win."

"If it saves Mum and Dad, and Bill and Charlie and the rest, it's worth it." Percy replied stubbornly.

He turned and ran.

"Stupefy. Locomotor Mortis!"

Harry's first spell struck Percy's defensive shield, and bounced away, and Percy threw himself out into the rain as he avoided Harry's attempted leg locker curse which followed. For his part, Harry jumped back through the hole he had entered the kitchen through, and aimed his wand at the figure that was now scrambling up from the ground, feet slipping on the muddy earth.

"Impedimenta!"

Percy twisted to face Harry once more, and barely raised a shield in time. For the first time, he replied with his own spells, both of which Harry side stepped, not certain what they were. They flew off into the distance.

Behind Percy, a figure appeared in the distance. It was Ron. Harry hesitated, and Percy shouted in that strange, garbled voice:

"Rejicia!"

Harry threw himself sideways as the curse shot past, not having time to cast a shielding charm. As he rolled he heard Ron yell his curse.

"Farcio!"

Percy managed to turn, just before the spell hit him. The power behind the curse lifted him bodily off his feet, and he flew backwards.

Harry overbalanced as he passed him, and he didn't see what had happened to cause the sickening crunch and the agonising scream. By the time he had turned to look, it was too late.

Percy had flown right into the metal spike. He hung there for a few seconds, suspended, skewered through the chest, mouth gaping in agony, before the metal slowly began to bend, and he slumped to the ground. When his feet were unable to bear his weight, the spear finally snapped, meaning he slid to his bottom, back still upright against the remains of the wall.

Ron ran forwards to Harry. "You okay mate? Let's get the…"

He trailed off as he saw his brother for the first time, colour draining out of his face, stationary now, still a few yards away from Harry, who had just got back to his feet. He shook his head in confusion and disbelief, and as he was about to take a step forward, a sound from behind caused Harry to turn away from his friend automatically.

The spell involuntarily left his mouth as he saw who was standing there. "Protego!"

A spell left Voldemort's open hand, flinging Harry bodily through the air, head over heels. He crashed into the kitchen table, sending it flying and breaking the two of the chairs that didn't hurtle across what was left of the kitchen. Although the shield protected Harry from harm, at the moment of impact his wand flew from his hand. He pushed himself to his feet instinctively, staring past Percy's lifeless body, directly at Voldemort. He was defenceless.

Voldemort smiled.

"Impedimenta."

The spell shot out of his palm directly at Harry, striking him just as he drew himself up to full height, and freezing him in place. Unable to move more than his eyes, he could only search desperately, and fruitlessly, for his wand.

Voldemort glanced to his side towards something out of Harry's eyeshot, and then walked forwards slowly as he spoke. "It appears you retain the ability to cause me minor surprises, Harry Potter. First your willingness to use the most powerful spell known to Wizardkind, and now you reveal your friend is willing to kill his own flesh and blood. Well, well. What other surprises do you hide?

"Legilimens!"

Harry had thought he was ready for it. He had certainly been expecting the curse – it was what much of his year had been based around: defending his mind from Voldemort. As, however, Voldemort's will crashed into his defences, and he cleared his mind by second nature, a second questing force struck him. One from within. From his scar.

All his practice, all his discipline, all his preparations mattered nought: he reflexively broke his calmness of mind and started to think once more. Voldemort burst through his secondary and tertiary defences before he had time to readjust, and he seemed a step behind in each of the defences he tried to raise: Voldemort was just too skilled.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Well," Voldemort said from across the archway pit, "that was certainly a surprise, albeit a rather disappointing one. All those days and weeks under the tutelage of the world famous educator _Albus __Dumbledore_, and yet you cannot muster up even the feeblest of defences? You have a long way to go before you can set yourself up as my _equal_, child."

Pain shot through Harry's head as the rule governing apparition was overpowered by a thought from the Dark Lord. He fell to his knees as a second rule – one limiting the pain that could be caused by spells – was demolished, causing him to yell out. Voldemort's power as a Legilimens was great enough to cause most Occlumens trouble even had they fought the initial spell more successfully. Harry could do nothing. A third pain speared through him, racking his entire body now as Voldemort started to laugh. Fighting the pain, Harry raised his head to look at his enemy, and raised his wand.

"Stupefy!"

The light shot from his wand, but Voldemort fended it off easily. He stopped laughing, and frowned.

Harry's head exploded.

Or at least it felt like it had. Voldemort had quested out as many of the rules governing Harry's Occlumency Sanctuary as he could find and ruthlessly snuffed them out well nigh simultaneously, each one striking Harry with pain before he had started to feel the previous one.

When Harry regained awareness, he found himself slumped on the ground, sobbing from the agony. He couldn't feel his limbs through the pain in order to force himself up, he couldn't see anything other than the stone beneath him, but he _could_ hear.

Voldemort's voice was cold, and musing. "Back with me, Harry?"

Harry tried to stop his sobs and frame a defiant reply, but failed. The lessening of his sobs was a reply in and of itself, however.

"Indeed you are. Although strangely lacking in surprises, it appears, on this occasion. Perhaps I have one for you: I shall not immediately kill you."

"That's not a surprise!" Harry managed to spit out. "You've failed so-"

Harry's insolence was cut off by a wave from Voldemort's wand, which caused him to scream and writhe in agony. The spell stopped abruptly, leaving Harry once more trying to get to his feet.

"You say you are not surprised?" Voldemort mused. "Granted, I suppose it may appear to make sense – given all that has preceded this moment – to apply caution before finally disposing of you. However, the main reason for your stay of execution, I admit, Harry, is not caution, but rather that you intrigue me. The two of us seem to have an intricate relationship, I'm sure you will agree."

Harry found himself forced bodily to his feet, and then pinned against the wall incapable of doing anything other than stare at Voldemort's hateful face as the man's wand now controlled his movements.

Voldemort cocked his head in consideration, and then resumed talking. "A prophecy made linking our fates together; our first meeting – in the very house inside which we stand in the world outside – where you did what no-one else could: you survived; our first true meeting a decade or so later, where you found a way to evade death once more; your subsequent escapes which began to suggest more than freakish good fortune was protecting you; until today, when you and your friend have delivered the certainty of your overdue death into my waiting hands.

"I confess, Harry, that the knowledge that you have sealed your own fate has allowed my curiosity to reassert itself once more: for I am a very curious man. _Knowledge_, Harry: that is one thing which has always fascinated me. It may seem simplistic, but knowledge _is_ power. And even in the mind of one such as you there can be found knowledge, if you but know where it is, and how to recognise it."

Voldemort disappeared abruptly, reappearing mere inches away from Harry's face. The spell holding him to the wall forbade Harry from even so much as flinching. Voldemort smiled, examining Harry's eyes and finding amusement from whatever he read within them. He extended a long, bony finger, and tapped Harry's forehead.

"The knowledge – the power – is in here, Harry, and no-one in this world is more adept at recognising power than I."

He stepped backwards, and contemptuously showed his back to Harry: surveying the pit before him. He slowly turned, and walked to the closest door, studying the symbol burned into the wood. He didn't reach out his hand to open it, but merely looked at it.

"It appears you are not one for subtlety," He said, turning back to him, "a pity, I'm sure you'll agree, when you so comprehensively lose a battle of wills with an aggressor. It is merely a matter of uncovering what exactly these symbols mean to you, and then we can get down to the task of sorting through the dross of your memories to discover the pearls of knowledge which may be hidden. The prophecy I referred to before, for example, or what exactly you did in order to gain the Scrivenings of Slytherin for me – that shall be interesting indeed – not to mention numerous little things, the worth of which you are unaware."

"I didn't-" Harry tried to choke out, but a wave from Voldemort's wand sent shivers of pain throughout his body once more, and the rest of his sentence devolved into gasps.

"You didn't what?" Voldemort asked carelessly, surveying the pit once more. "You didn't get the Scrivenings for me? I am afraid you are wrong – indeed, our current situation would appear to tell the lie to that claim, would you not agree? I knew roughly where Salazar lived, Harry, but not the precise location. Albus Dumbledore, however, knew. Dumbledore... I know his weaknesses, child, and the way he thinks. I knew that he would not keep the location of the Scrivenings secret in case something should happen to him. Unfortunately, my servant, Severus, was not the one blessed with this trust, but that at least meant it was clear who his confidant would be: you speak Parseltongue, after all.

"Whilst I said before that you produce a few rare surprises, in the main you remain predictable. To a man such as I, the very world itself is predictable. I knew, for example, that should I tell my followers that your protection would be nullified come tonight, the traitor in their midst would rush to warn you. And once you were informed, you would of course decide that you were the one person who could stop me. Thus, I ensured the traitor's message was delivered, before disposing of him. Indeed, rather than face my wrath he disposed of himself, saving me the trouble. A curious sort of bravery, in a way."

He continued to study the symbol on the door whilst talking, as though only paying half attention to Harry and what he was saying. Abruptly he moved back to survey the pit in the middle of the room. _The __Archway__…_ Harry thought desperately.

"I launched an attack: one that I had been planning for a long time regardless, and one that would reinforce the message you had received. You do despise Bellatrix, don't you Harry? You saw her and rushed to remove yourself from any protection – or chaperones – the Ministry or Dumbledore were giving you, saving me the trouble. I then allowed you to see me, and know that you had a chance to seize the prize before I could take it."

Voldemort turned and walked back to Harry, finding amusement in the daggers of hate being sent towards him, which was all the impotent Harry could do.

"And lo and behold! As I foretold, Harry Potter gathered his friends and appeared in the village I had so recently inhabited, and which Dumbledore himself had since believed he had penetrated undetected. I left a small force of some of my more inept followers who were in need of punishment – which I am sure you avoided with little trouble upon your way to retrieving my book. Whereupon, of course, my spy transported you here, before his own brother removed him from this mortal coil.

"I know you, Harry. I know you as surely as I know Dumbledore, Severus Snape, or any other man or woman I have dealings with."

Harry smouldered with useless rage, still unable to even move a finger. _Voldemort __didn__'__t __know __him. __Voldemort __had __completely __misjudged __him. __He __had __just __got __lucky. __Harry __hadn__'__t __wanted __to __go __after __Lestrange, __he __had __been __trying __to __protect __Neville. __He __hadn__'__t __seen __Voldemort __and __thought __he __could __get __to __the __Scrivenings __first, __he __had __just __wanted __to __save __his __friends__' __lives._

"No protestations, Harry? No determined claims that you didn't really believe the Scrivenings of Slytherin were in danger, or that you didn't think you were the only one who could stop me?" Voldemort smiled broadly. "Or have you perhaps already learnt that speaking brings you pain?"

Harry stayed silent, unable to deny that those two things at least, had been true. He glared back.

"Excellent! I always told Dumbledore I would be an assured teacher. Let's move to lesson number two, shall we? I shall ask you questions, and if you refuse to answer, or lie, then you will consequently suffer pain. Now, question number one:

"What do the markings upon the door refer to? What is their common point of reference?"

"I'm not telling you anything." Harry snarled, readying himself for the same pain he had faced before.

"Crucio!"

Whilst he had been ready for pain, nothing could prepare a person for this. Harry slid down the wall, thrashing, as the spell that had been restricting him was lifted. How long the curse went on for he couldn't tell: it could have been moments, it could have been minutes.

"Very well," Voldemort sighed, "we shall return to that later. Second question:

"Why did Rodolphus Lestrange's curse rebound to kill him when you apparated between him and your friend?"

"Because I can't be killed," Harry replied recklessly, ignoring his aching muscles, "because you tried to kill me as a child, you made me immortal. I can't be killed, and it's all because of you."

He was rewarded by another Cruciatus curse.

Once Harry managed to mute his screams, Voldemort continued calmly. "We both know that that is a lie, Harry, even if you and Dumbledore have managed to persuade the gutters of society that it is true. Rodolphus died because he was loyal to me. Your mother's protection protects you from me, whether or not the actions you need protection from are directly caused by my own hand."

"If you're so sure, then why ask the question?" Harry spat through rough gasps from his knees.

"Because I knew you would lie, of course." Voldemort smiled. "Now, what does the prophecy say?"

Harry glanced down to the Archway in the pit below and back, before attempting to push himself upright, trying to disguise the look. As his hand slipped on the stone, a spell from Voldemort caught him, and pushed him back to his feet again.

"There now, I can be kind and supportive if I so wish." The smile on Voldemort's face was infuriating: he truly did enjoy playing with and hurting people. "Now, what does the prophecy that Sybil Trelawney made about the two of us say?"

"You're just going to have to hurt me again." Harry panted, resisting the urge to glance at the Archway again.

Voldemort shook his head in mock sorrow, cast the same restrictive spell upon Harry as before, and then vanished without warning once more, reappearing in the pit below, beside the curtain.

"Did you truly think that I would be afraid of death, Harry? I, remember, have conquered death."

Voldemort walked through the curtain.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Ready for what would happen, when Voldemort triggered one of the few rules he had failed to destroy, and left his mind, Harry jumped to his right, towards where he hoped he could hide behind a granite topped work surface. He stumbled on one of the struts of a broken chair that was left lying on the floor and, as he pushed himself forward and upwards with his hands, a curse struck him from his side.

Harry screamed. The Cruciatus curse contorted his limbs, pressing him into the remains of the kitchen chair that had tripped him up in the first place, and striking his head against the floor. The curse soon lifted, however, and he was forced to his feet as though picked up by an invisible, Herculean hand, and turned to face Voldemort. Harry met Voldemort's piercing eyes once more, as the Dark Lord opened his mouth.

"Legilimens."

Harry cleared his mind, allowing it to drift like an unmoored boat. This time when the second questing force emerged, he suppressed his automatic reaction, and did nothing. Voldemort had to find the entrance to his mind in order to attack it, and thoughts would give away its position like smoke would give away a camp fire. He could feel the two tendrils of magical energy questing for some kind of response, some signal as to where they should target in order to infiltrate his mind, but he marshalled his instincts, trusting his months of training to tell him when he had no choice but to move on to his next form of defence. The information sent to his brain from his eyes and ears merely blurred into itself as he ignored it, and Harry quelled his emotions as he felt the tell tail signs of Voldemort trying to influence them.

It wasn't possible for Harry to tell how long he'd kept Voldemort at bay, or how much he had weakened Voldemort's attack, but the quickening, and converging nature of the two probes triggered him into instinctive action, starting his second defensive technique. He allowed a spark of thought to come to the surface, but _threw_ it to the side of his mind, like a ventriloquist might throw his voice. He left it there for only an instant, before clearing his mind once more. Voldemort's two searching forces became one as they joined together at the scene of Harry's misdirection, and quickly resumed looking as Harry's ploy was discovered.

When Harry's instincts launched him into action again, he made a split-second decision not to attempt the same thing twice. The danger was too great that Voldemort might spot the deception this time. The longer Harry could keep Voldemort out of his mind, the stronger a position Harry would be in when he finally broke through – for Harry had no illusions as to being able to bar Voldemort from eventual entry to his mind – but there were other ways to weaken Voldemort's spell.

Harry concentrated sharply, diverting Voldemort's incursion to the periphery of his mind, forming a sheet of awareness around Voldemort so that he couldn't slip past. In using the momentum of Voldemort's attack rather than directly challenging it, he was able to force it away from his Sanctuary, and gave himself more space to play with when Voldemort inevitably turned and engaged him in a brute force fight.

As stubborn as Harry was, he was overmatched by Voldemort's expertise, and the power of his initial spell, and he slowly but surely was forced backwards in their mental duel. Too scared to risk any more of the forms of defence Dumbledore had taught him – for Voldemort might well fly through them as quickly as he had minutes earlier – Harry concentrated upon the one defence he hoped Voldemort would never have seen before. He concentrated upon the Golden Snitches that represented his magic in his mind's eye, and surrounded the entrance to his Sanctuary with them, moments before Voldemort gained access. Voldemort's consciousness withdrew slightly as he struck it, clearly surprised.

Harry's eyes and ears began to focus as the incessant pressure finally lifted, while Voldemort decided what to do next, and a figure yards behind Voldemort came into view as they did so. Ron, leaning slightly, as though his side were injured, had his wand raised, and pointed at Voldemort.

Ron's voice and wand both shook slightly, but he managed the incantation. "Falxia!"

The curse-light shot out in what seemed slow motion – caused, Harry could only imagine, by the mind magic he and Voldemort were in the middle of – and he could see the precise moment that Ron's spell struck an invisible shield around Voldemort's body, slowing slightly as it penetrated it. His link with Voldemort was suddenly broken, and Voldemort moved sideways in what felt like unnatural speed, but not quickly enough to avoid being struck by the weakened spell.

Harry finally flung himself behind the comparative safety of the granite work surface, before looking desperately around for his wand.

"Crucio!" Voldemort's voice rang out angrily, and was swiftly followed by screams from Ron.

Harry closed his eyes so tightly it hurt, and forced himself to remember he could do nothing without his wand. Running out from this cover, and throwing himself bodily at Voldemort would do nothing. He needed his wand, but he didn't even know where it was. He tried to block out Ron's continuing screams, and _think_.

"How dare you!" Voldemort hissed at Ron, as the screams faded, and turned into ragged cries. "I might have spared you to work for me instead of the brother you just killed, but you've just forfeited any hope you had of that."

To Harry's amazement, Ron managed to respond through his pain, and there was satisfaction to his tone. "I saved Harry though, didn't I?"

Voldemort laughed his high pitched laugh. "You have far too high an opinion of yourself, boy. You interrupted a spell; your friend's respite is temporary. Now, as you can see, he is cowering behind those cupboards, too scared to even try to help you."

Harry winced as the screams began again and clenched his fists. He stared around him desperately, willing for inspiration.

"Harry!" Voldemort called out mockingly. "Your friend will die for what he dared to do, but you can still help him. Come out from your hiding place, and face me like a man, and I shall make his end swift."

If there was ever a time for Harry's unintentional magic to show itself, now was it, but sitting around hoping wouldn't achieve anything. Nor would his wandless magic lessons come in handy now, despite their efforts to control his magic: as Aravenne had said, if it takes longer than a split second, it's flashy, but useless in a fight. So if that was out too, then…

Harry paused in his frantic thinking for a moment. _Useless __in __a _fight_, __but__…_

"No answer?" Voldemort continued mockingly. "Well, I suppose we had better continue, then. Crucio!"

Feeling ill, Harry closed his eyes, and concentrated upon the transparent wand motion that he needed the internal representation of his magic to take. He forced himself to shut out Ron's screams, and to ignore the knowledge that he hadn't attempted a spell anywhere near this complicated wandlessly before.

He carefully traced the route from his head to his hand in his mind, and then tried to keep the image there as he switched his attention to his missing wand.

"Accio." He whispered.

For a moment he thought he could feel an answering tug which would be followed by the familiar smooth feeling of wood in hand, but such hopes fled almost instantaneously. Whether it had had any effect, Harry could not tell, for Ron's screams drowned out even the sound of the pouring rain and he didn't know from what direction the wand might come. Harry shut his eyes tightly once more, and sought the magic inside of him for a second try.

Voldemort's voice cut across him, as Ron's screams died away again, to be replaced by weeping. "You truly are full of surprises this evening, Harry, I never expected the Hero of Wizarding Britain, the Dark Lord's Nemesis, the one and only Harry Potter to be such a _craven _coward." His voice laden with scorn, he continued: "So much for the bonds of friendship. Ron Weasley, it appears that your friend has deserted you: frightened for his own life, he cares so little about yours that he makes no effort to save you. Such is the harsh reality of the real world." He stopped speaking momentarily, before asking a question: "What's that? Sonorus!"

Harry's entire body tensed painfully as he heard Ron's pain ridden, amplified voice, which nonetheless was quiet enough to keep Harry's ears straining. "Please… Pl- Please…"

Voldemort laughed again. "Quietus. Did you hear that Harry? Your friend is pleading for you to come to his rescue, and yet still it appears you remain unmoved. Well, I am not unmoved; I am moved to pity in fact. Yes, pity, Harry. I have decided I shall not kill your friend, despite his audacity to attack me. I shall grant him his life.

"Do you know how long the Cruciatus curse must be applied for in order to cause permanent mental damage, Harry?" He continued wickedly, after a brief pause: "It varies, of course, for each person – some minds fail remarkably quickly. Crucio!"

Ron's screams again filled the evening air, but this time Voldemort was counting loudly along side them, timing how long he was holding the curse for Harry's benefit. Tears leaked their way from Harry's tightly closed eyelids and he wiped them away fiercely. He had to get his wand! He concentrated fiercely once more, imagining his magic in his mind. A particularly loud, high pitched shriek filled the air, and the magic in his mind began to change colour to green, and shape towards a lightning bolt, but Harry redoubled his concentration, and forced it into the shape he wanted so desperately.

"Accio!" Harry said quietly and firmly.

As Harry spoke, Voldemort's counting ended abruptly at forty-three, and Ron's screams faded. Taking the place of the next number was a grunt from Voldemort: in surprise rather than pain. Harry opened his eyes, and his concentration upon his wand wavered as a pathetic voice spoke.

"You… promised…" Percy Weasley managed to force the words out into what was an almost stunned silence, with only a slight rattle of wood and the pattering of rain cutting across his words.

Harry looked to the side to see his wand strike a chair leg, and stop, at least five foot away from him. He peered around the work surface to see if Voldemort's attention was directed towards him. It wasn't – it was directed at Percy Weasley, who had one hand feebly outstretched towards Voldemort, wand held in a shaking hand, but otherwise not moving at all in a pool of blood.

Voldemort replied with just one, angry, word. "Crucio!"

Percy's body shuddered for a brief moment, and then fell still, falling to his side.

Harry sprung into action, throwing himself towards his wand. As he felt the cool, hard wood nestle into his hand, he looked towards Voldemort, who, having spotted Harry, had turned back towards Ron, and pointed his wand at his prone body.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's wand was already moving, and his own incantation split through the wet evening:

"Mutucutus!"

His incantation had finished after Voldemort's, his wand tip had been aimed wildly in the general direction, and he knew no spell could stop the killing curse, but Harry watched desperately as the green light shot through the air.

It struck Harry's shield inches away from Ron, and erupted in a bright flash which flickered across the transparent sheet that was Harry's spell, a beam of white light extending from it, and flying at speed towards Harry's own wand as Voldemort's spell still threatened to at any moment strike Ron's body.

As the connection between his and Voldemort's wand was established, a cascade of light spurted from the point where the two spells had met, turning a magnificent gold in an explosion that threw Ron's body backwards. Ron struck a tree and didn't move. Threads of gold left the place where the spells had collided, and started to weave outwards into the dome Harry and Voldemort had fought inside once before. Between Harry and the spreading golden threads, Voldemort grabbed his right hand with his left, attempting to prise his fingers apart. As the golden light formed a semi circle against the brickwork of the house, Harry found himself dragged forwards, feet scraping against the ground.

Voldemort's wand abruptly fell to the ground, and as it did so, Harry stopped moving, the dome fading away to nothing. Harry took a step backwards automatically, in order to maintain distance.

"Not this time, Harry." Voldemort said quietly, but with an edge appearing in his voice, and his eyes narrowing as he summoned his wand back into his hand, and slipped it into his pocket. "No-one can save you, whether they are a ghostly remnant, a phoenix, or Dumbledore."

Harry took another couple of steps backwards. The lines above Voldemort's eyes lifted slightly, and he gave a slight smile.

"And it seems you know it."

Voldemort gestured with a hand, and a bright light shot forth, where it met Harry's hastily conjured shield, pushing Harry backwards a couple of yards. Harry gave a quick glance behind, to ensure he didn't fall over any of the debris that littered the room, before turning back to his opponent.

Harry didn't reply with a curse but merely waited for the next spell to come towards him. His mind was racing. His instincts told him merely standing and fighting would get himself killed. Just as, as the strongest duellist in his year, he had easily overcome foes such as Dean, who had attempted to go on an unimaginative offensive in Aravenne's classes, Voldemort would comfortably defeat him. Those people that had made life hardest for him, were those that had retreated, and tried to gain an advantage given by the terrain.

Harry took another step backwards, this time also slightly to the side, where the door lay.

"Scared, Harry?" Voldemort suggested. "Or perhaps you merely know you have no chance unless my back is turned?"

"You're hardly one to complain about others not fighting fair." Harry pointed out, trying to keep his voice slow and calm, knowing any show of confidence would irritate Voldemort.

"Oh, I have no concern about such a nebulous concept as etiquette, Harry, I was merely stating a fact."

Another spell shot from his open palm, and Harry elected to jump sideways rather than shield it this time. He had recognised the spell movement and knew it was safe to avoid. As he landed, he took another pace backwards.

"Or do you perhaps, disagree?" Voldemort continued. "Maybe you will gather your fabled Gryffindor courage, and face me? I will admit: I have been disappointed at how little of it has been in evidence over the past few minutes. Come now, Harry, face me – straight backed, and proud!" His eyes glinted, and he repeated the last four words softly. "Straight backed, and proud."

Harry didn't allow his facial expression to change one iota. After all he'd had to put up with from Snape, Voldemort would have to do better than that to get under his skin. It wasn't bravery to offer himself up to be captured or killed. If Voldemort prevailed, then Ron was dead. _That __is, __if __he __isn__'__t __al-_ Harry frowned, and squashed the rest of the sentence in his mind. Then there were also the Scrivenings. It felt like the chances were slim that he could prevent Voldemort from taking them, given that they currently rested in the middle of a pool of water, mud, and blood, a matter of mere feet away from Voldemort, beside Percy's lifeless corpse.

Harry grimaced – he had to try.

He raised his wand, and spoke: "Rejicia!"

The curse shot from his wand, and arrowed towards the book – which looked strangely clean, all things considered. Voldemort raised a shield fluidly, but the spell wasn't aimed towards him. It struck the book in a flash of white light. Harry snuck a couple more steps backwards as a column of mud and water shot into the air around the book.

When it had returned to earth, Harry had put a row of work surfaces between the two of them, and Voldemort was left with a satisfied smile on his lips. The book, however, may as well have been untouched.

"So, an act of desperation from a boy who knows he has no chance. You would rather such a precious compendium of knowledge should be destroyed than that I should attain it, Harry? It is of little matter: a mere spell such as that could not hope to harm a creation of the great Salazar Slytherin's."

"Falxiardor!" Harry tried.

Voldemort made no effort to stop him, but merely watched as the curse light struck the book, and then dissipated into nothingness. He took a couple of steps forward, Harry automatically retreating once more to maintain the distance. He watched Voldemort carefully as he approached the book, readying himself to make his move.

As Voldemort bent, Harry turned and sprinted for the door, trusting to surprise and Voldemort's overconfidence, as well as the man's disdain for showing urgency, to see him through as much as the shield he cast whilst moving.

He bounced off the opposite wall as he entered the hallway, using it to maintain his momentum as he turned left towards the front door. He slowed with an internal curse, as he saw the hole in the floor which blocked the way, before taking his only other option with nary a thought, jumping up the stairs two at a time.

He skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, and turned, cursing the fact that he was still pretty much trapped. Although, given that whatever charms keeping them here were almost certainly still raised, not to mention that he wouldn't leave Ron behind, he was arguably trapped wherever he went. And a cushioning charm and a window would see him out of the house reasonably safely.

Here, of course, he did have the advantage of elevation, which he had to make the most of – it wasn't as if he had many of those. The only other advantage was that Voldemort was forced to fight wandlessly, but although Aravenne claimed all wizards would find constant wandless magic draining, Harry felt that Voldemort tiring was rather a forlorn hope.

He pointed his wand at the doorway he had moments before run through.

_Laminacelo_!

He cast the spell wordlessly, before settling his weight and breathing deeply. He didn't have long to wait. Voldemort strolled through the doorway, the twin blades which snapped out from the frame striking thin air with a dull clang, and then falling to the floor. Four spells sped from Harry's wand, alternately verbalised and then cast silently.

"Falxia!" _Rictusempra!_ "Quassossis!" _Tarantalegra!_

As the voiceless spells were simpler, they sped through the air quicker than their predecessor, meaning Voldemort's shield was hit by two spells at once, the first couple striking just after the failed trap. There was no effect – whatever spell Voldemort was using to shield himself, it caught the more indirect spells as easily as the offensive ones. That did leave Harry with one very small consolation, however: that sort of shield took more effort to cast.

"Wizards your age tend to have a rather limited arsenal of spells. It seems it would be too much to ask for the supposed instrument of my destruction to match my own exploits at sixteen years of age. You wish to tickle me to death, Harry? I would expect better from a first year."

"You wouldn't be duelling a first year." Harry pointed out. "You'd have killed them already."

Voldemort's eyebrows rose. He laughed, suddenly. "Finally, some spirit! I do enjoy killing Gryffindors. They provide such amusement before their demise. Bravado is certainly a far rarer trait amongst the other houses."

"Protego." Harry spoke quietly.

He had been watching Voldemort's hands carefully during the interchange, and barely felt the long mirror smash against his back, splitting in two. As it flew past him down the stairs towards its summoner, a careless wave of Voldemort's hand sent it either side of the hallway, where the broken glass embedded into the wall.

"You don't seem to be trying too hard to kill me now." Harry pointed out, watching carefully in an effort to gauge whether Voldemort's shield was still in effect or not. "Anyone would think you were too scared to use the Avada Kedavra curse."

Voldemort took a couple of steps forwards, smiling at Harry's provocation. "Yours is a dying breed," he said, wickedly, "there are few others left alive who would dare to thus tempt my ire. I suspect that there may be a correlation."

"I'm not afraid of you, Tom Riddle." Harry tested Voldemort's shield with another spell as he spoke his defiance, but the orange light was easily absorbed before it reached the Dark Lord.

"Do you truly think you are the first person to have uttered those words to me?" Voldemort asked, lips curling once more in amusement, but Harry thought he could detect some annoyance there. "Some – a very few – even used my original name just moments before I killed them. Others claimed to be free from fear and then begged me to end their suffering for weeks before their worthless lives finished. Some of them even became my loyal followers. I wonder which you will be, Harry?

"Will you die quickly, like the last two occupants of this house? Will your death be a long, painful, drawn out process such as Caradoc Dearborn suffered? Or will you, perhaps, beg to serve me as Wormtail did?"

"You really are scared, aren't you? You're already trying to make excuses for not being able to kill me."

Harry did his best to put scorn into his voice, but he wasn't thinking much about what he was saying, other than hoping if he could anger Voldemort enough, he might make a mistake. He was concentrating more upon what both of Voldemort's hands were doing, waiting for the slightest hint of a spell. If he did enrage him, he would have to be ready.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed slightly, as though Harry's impudence was now irritating him, and Harry seized upon it. "You know I would never serve you. You've tried the Imperius curse, and you failed. You tried to possess me and you failed. Are you used to failure?"

"You would be amazed just how quickly pain – when correctly applied – can crush the fiercest spirit, Harry. My victims only end up mad, babbling incoherently, when _I_ wish them to." As the sentence filled with cold menace ended, Voldemort rotated quickly, and vanished.

Harry trusted to his instincts. He swivelled to his left – the only part of the upstairs Voldemort could have seen – raised his wand to chest height, and cast his spells.

"Falxia! Quassossis! Reducto!"

Voldemort apparated almost exactly in front of Harry, just as Harry's first spell left his wand. It struck him a glancing blow on the thigh, cutting deep into the flesh, causing blood to pour out, but a shield stopped the second and third spells in their tracks. Harry's spontaneous attack continued, however, as he pointed his wand downwards with an explosive hex, before raising it again and shouting "Farcio!"

As the explosion struck the floor outside of Voldemort's shield's range, all the force was directed towards it, pushing Voldemort off balance as the shield failed, and although Harry was sent backwards himself from the power of the explosion, his final spell struck the reeling man, sending him flying through the air, crashing through the wooden door connecting to the bathroom before landing in a heap beside the ceramic washbasin. Harry forced himself back to his feet, breathing a little heavily, and raised his wand. After a slight hesitation he ran forwards, mentally preparing the steps he would have to take to cast the spell.

He opened his mouth. "Avada Ke-"

A wall of water cut him off mid word. Advancing from the bathroom like a tidal wave, it consumed his vision, making him skid to a halt before being bowled over.

"Saeptus!" He shouted, even as he tried to scramble back to his feet as the water flowed down the stairs like a waterfall.

The shield of air stopped a spell in its tracks, and Harry pushed himself up and sideways to avoid a follow up. He hadn't a clue what either spell was – other than they weren't the Killing Curse – and he was too busy avoiding them to work out what the next one was. Voldemort was limping forward, rather bloodied – he had picked up a wound above his eye to go with the deep cut to his thigh – but casting spells quicker than Harry had ever seen done before.

Shielding a fifth spell, Harry jumped towards a door which wasn't shut properly – it couldn't, for its hinges had come loose. It fell over as he bulldozed through it, and he turned from what was left of the wall – pretty much all of which was gone – to face the oncoming Voldemort.

Who didn't appear.

Instead, from outside the door, Voldemort's voice rang. "It seems rather fitting, Harry, that our enmity should end right where it started. Last time we both stepped foot in that room, I made a rare error. This time, there shall be no such conclusion."

Harry swallowed and made a face. There may have been no cot – or furniture at all – in the room, there may have been no external walls on either side of the corner, and there was next to nothing of a roof above them, either, but Harry knew only too well that this had once been his bedroom. Here, it was, that his mother had saved his life.

Ten shining bolts of light appeared in the doorway, the same ones Harry had seen Voldemort use in Ollivander's shop. Harry reflexively took a step backwards.

"Protego." He said quietly, swallowing. This sort of spell was far beyond his experience. "Aditus Arcanum."

His spell linked to Voldemort's charm, and just before he attempted to break it, Voldemort himself appeared behind the bolts of energy. Maintaining the link in his mind, Harry seized the knot of magical energy, and tried to untie it at a breakneck speed.

The bolts sped towards him, obscuring the concentration etched upon Voldemort's face, and striking his shield powerfully. Harry managed to stay steady for the first few impacts, but his body was forced to give ground as his shield was struck over and over again, as the failed bolts retreated before shooting towards him once more. Somehow he managed to keep his concentration, and smoothed out the energy corresponding to Voldemort's spell before dismissing it.

One of the bolts flying towards him vanished, but nine remained. Taken unawares, Harry's shield dissolved as the next impact hit it, and he was left defenceless. A bolt of pure cyan hit him in the chest. Even through his Graphorn vest, he felt it sting, but it didn't end there. There were eight more bolts.

The next two also hit him squarely in the midriff, and caused relatively little pain, although he was pushed backwards each time. The third struck his arm powerfully, and he was surrounded by fiery pain which spread through his body like wildfire. His body arched, and a scream was drawn out through his mouth. Two of the next three struck his vest, but when the second bout of pain struck, Harry almost lost control of his senses, surrounded instead by agony. The penultimate missile struck him in the chest once more, and Harry vaguely realised his feet had lost purchase as they found empty space. The last beam hit him whilst he was falling to the wet earth below.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The sodden ground gave slightly as he landed on his back. His muscles spasmed unbidden, and his entire body ached. Feeling rather groggy, he could yet feel his wand in his hand, and he forced it to move, pointing upwards in the blackness. Unable to voice any incantation, he thought it instead.

_Bullatueor._

There was a wait of seconds, where he tried to force himself to breathe more slowly, and open his eyes, even though his body refused to respond. A rush of air struck him from above, and there was a slight popping noise.

He finally opened his eyes to see Voldemort standing there, eyes narrowed, and palm extended, his voice came across in a tight whisper. "Legilimens."

Harry struggled to defend his mind once more, somehow getting his first Occlumency defences up - more by instinct than anything else – and resorting to his shield of magic when Voldemort cut through them with only a little effort. Once more Voldemort withdrew as he sized up Harry's defence.

Gasping, Harry used the time to organise his thoughts, and push his pain out of his mind. Voldemort gradually exerted pressure equally all over his mental barrier, and Harry gritted his teeth. He had no choice but to hold on, even as his head started to thump from the effort, and added to the pain he was already feeling. The pressure abated slightly, and he focused all his efforts as he knew what was coming: Voldemort arrowed all his efforts towards one spot, in an attempt to pierce the barrier. For long seconds Harry held on, siphoning more and more of his magic to the attacked area. With a jerk, a second attack was launched to the rear, and started to burrow through.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry immediately sidestepped as the Arch room at the Ministry appeared in front of him, aware that Voldemort might try to take him by surprise. Suddenly being transported to a healthy body that wasn't racked with pain, however, threw him off balance, and he had to keep moving to stay upright.

That was all it took – a spell struck him, forcing him backwards, and pinning him to the wall. Pain started to well in his head even as he stared across the pit at Voldemort from inside his trapped body, and he desperately started to fight it. Firmly concentrating upon forcing Voldemort from his mind, the pain in his head slowed, but didn't abate, before with a snapping feeling, the rule governing apparition broke.

Ignoring the pain, Harry redoubled his efforts, and the pressure abruptly ceased.

Voldemort frowned as his attempt to destroy the rest of the laws governing Harry's Sanctuary was rebuffed – weakening his advantage over Harry ever so slightly – but otherwise let no sign of his annoyance escape him. "You are outmatched, Harry," He told him, softly, "you are outmatched, and you know it."

Harry made no reply. He couldn't think of anything he could say that would make the blindest bit of difference. He couldn't think of anything he could do, either, but at least there he tried, putting every ounce of effort he could muster into expelling Voldemort from his mind. Voldemort watched him stoically, not allowing the merest sign of exertion to leave his face. He just stood there and watched.

Eventually, Harry let his efforts lull – he was getting nowhere other than tiredness, and he needed to be alert if he had as much as an ice cube's chance in hell of finding a way to beat Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled quietly and walked to the closest doorway, opening it, and peering inside. Harry couldn't see his face as he saw the identical room revealed to him, but he did notice Voldemort cock his head in consideration.

A moment later, Harry's trapped body shot towards Voldemort via a summoning spell, whereupon Voldemort propelled him into the room, following behind. Helpless, Harry could only watch Voldemort as he studied the symbols on each door, before he finally selected the door with the wand motion of the levitation spell that represented the room in which he stored memories of learning. Inside he chose the first door he came to, and examined the memories within. Flashes of colour flew before Harry's eyes, but how much of the memories Voldemort saw, he couldn't know. Voldemort then selected a door engraved with a poison detection charm, which mainly housed memories of potions classes at Hogwarts. Again, Harry couldn't tell what Voldemort had seen, but it appeared that he had quickly seen enough, for he withdrew from the memories, before selecting another door seemingly at random – this time Harry's memories of divination – and then a fourth. As Voldemort finally withdrew this last time, his eyes shone and his voice had a ring of satisfaction.

"Wand movements."

Harry gritted his teeth, which was about all he was capable of doing, and said nothing. After a moment of consideration, Voldemort's eyes widened, and he grabbed hold of Harry's shoulder, squeezing, before apparating, taking Harry with him, in front of a door depicting the Pulmelido curse. He had transported them back to the entrance room.

"I would imagine, Harry, that a room marked with a dark curse like this is one you would rather not think about. Is that not so?"

Harry said nothing, and Voldemort smiled.

"Spells may not cause you pain here, Harry, but there is more than one way to inflict anguish upon a person. Just remember this: once you have had enough, merely give me what I desire, and the pain shall cease."

"Let me guess: forever?" Harry spat sarcastically, hating his impotence.

Whilst he by no means was looking forward to what was to come, Harry felt a grim certainty that Voldemort's plan would fail: whilst he disliked all the memories stored behind this door, he no longer ran from any of them. He had watched his parents die and accepted his own inability to change that memory, and his very Occlumency was based upon the room Sirius had been murdered in. If he could endure those, he could endure any other.

He gritted his teeth in preparation, as Voldemort opened the door, forcing him into the room around which his bad memories dwelt.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry looked around frantically. Dudley and the rest of his gang were coming, but his only exit was blocked by Piers Polkiss. What he wouldn't give for a gust of wind right about now! Trapped in an alleyway between two houses, there was nowhere for him to turn.

He shouldn't have done it – he had known he shouldn't do it – but he had done it anyway. Dudley would now make him pay.

"Potter!" The eight year old sneered from behind him, as though he and Harry didn't live in the very same house. "Think that was clever? Try to make me look stupid?"

"I didn't think-" Harry stammered the lie.

He had thought. He had known what would happen. He hated Dudley, and it had seemed a good idea at the time. Then it had felt worth it. He started to tremble.

"Oof!" He was sent flying.

One of the boys in his cousin's gang had charged him, sending him to the ground. Harry felt the warmth in the back of his eyes as he readied himself for what was to come. Fists and feet would come in flying, and blood would soon follow. No help would come – he knew that. He never seemed to bruise badly, either, and his cuts always healed over before an adult might see them. Either that or they just didn't care.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry forced himself to his knees in the Arch room, panting, suddenly recalling all the other memories he had been forced to relive. Like in all those other visions, all the emotions his younger self had been feeling were still pounding away, as though he were still eight years old. He didn't know how Voldemort had done it, but when he relived the memories Harry wasn't nearly seventeen years of age and someone who had fought Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself. He – to all intents and purposes – was the same person that had experienced the events in real life.

All he saw were two narrowed merciless eyes, and a smile, before he was thrown headlong into the next memory.

Dudley. Aunt Marge. Uncle Vernon. Dudley again. Aunt Petunia. A boy that had once thought to rival Dudley as the biggest bully on the block. Dudley yet once more. Ripper. His years before Hogwarts relived, all of the even slightly positive moments removed, leaving only the pain behind. Moments of ignominy and moments of agony were relived in excruciating detail, leaving him only fractions of seconds to remember that they had not been real between each memory.

As each memory ended, he was left feeling the very same aches, fears, and mental scars he had just relived, and slowly but surely those same emotions seemed to seep into the next memory. The Harry that had been too slow to duck Aunt Petunia's frying pan was still feeling the pounding skull and the ringing in his ears when Dudley pressed his face into the mud, suffocating him – even though there had been over a week between the two incidents. Again, and again, and again, he felt it, without the slightest of letups.

The switch from his life as a Muggle to his life at Hogwarts happened with a jolt. One moment he was reliving Uncle Vernon's rage, and the next he was looking for an injured Unicorn. A deeper, more primeval fear took hold of him now. All his previous memories had involved pain in one form or another, but he had never had to feel the certainty that death was going to take him in them. Dementors filled his vision, causing his mother's screams to sound in his ears, and all his strength to wilt from his body.

He slumped on the stone floor once more, body as unresponsive as it had been in his memory. A small part of him braced himself for the next one, but most of him just wanted to curl into a ball. A second passed. Two. Three.

"How much more do you think you can face, Harry." Voldemort taunted. "You're unable to muster the slightest defiance any more, and you've yet to finish your first run through of your memories. How do you think you'll feel after you live them all for your third time? I am willing to stop this, you realise? Merely give me that which I seek, and I shall not torture you any more."

Harry said nothing, panting. His situation was dimly breaking through the videotape of memories that were even now still playing in his head. Defiance ever so slightly rejoined the emotions of defeat, pain, and fear; even if the hopelessness that saturated him all but overwhelmed it.

"Unless you speak now, you shall have no chance to accept, and give me the knowledge I seek, until we have finished your first journey through your life's terrors."

Harry would not give in to Voldemort, but yet he could not dredge up a word to say in opposition either. He used the few seconds granted to him to try to clear his mind, and to rediscover his Occlumency.

Everything changed.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Out of the darkness came a yelping, a whining; a dog in pain …

"Sirius," Harry found himself muttering, staring into the darkness, looking for the shape of that big black dog he had so recently thought wanted to kill him.

Black was in trouble.

Harry set off at a run, hand outstretched to push branches out of the way as he followed the sound of whimpers. He hardly even recognised the cold as he approached the lake, let alone understood what it meant.

As the yelping stopped, and Harry saw Sirius Black crouched on all fours as a human, clarity came. Dementors: tens, could it even be hundreds of them? All of them either already searching for Sirius' mouth, or else gliding around the lake to join their hunt. His fear for Sirius was suddenly joined by his recollection of all he knew about Dementors. They did not care whether it was a criminal they were feeding upon, or else an innocent student.

He fought. He fought with everything he had, but he could not produce a Patronus strong enough to fight one Dementor, let alone the amount here now. Hermione, who was beside him, could not even do the little he had. Dementors swarmed upon them. One of them reached to him, forcing his face upwards. He started to drown in fog, his mother's screaming in his ears once more…

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

He was back in the Arch Room. His body spasmed suddenly on the floor: as if it were incapable of coping with the constant strain of what he had just been through. His seizure stopped. Seconds went by before gaining enough clarity to realise that he should have been reliving yet another bad memory. He slumped forwards, chest flat upon the stone, not looking towards Voldemort in an effort to gather his thoughts. He could not continue going through this: it would eventually send him mad as surely as the Cruciatus curse, and the longer it went on, the less likely he would be to find a way out.

"I wondered when we would come across this particular memory of yours, Harry." Harry looked up to see a calculating look on Voldemort's face: calculating, with the hint of a smile. "Severus told me it would be here, of course, but I admit I had been hoping for a different ending than your fainting as a Dementor was about to kiss you. Perhaps there is some more to that memory elsewhere," he mused, "or perhaps I missed something. A second viewing will tell me more, do you not think?"

_Not __again!_ Harry thought.

With reckless desperation Harry concentrated upon pushing Voldemort out of his mind. As he did so, he automatically tried to also push him into the room which contained his happy memories – although anywhere other than here would do. Need forced him to pour every last ounce of mental strength into his fight – if he lost now, he wouldn't have enough strength to try again, but if he didn't try now, all would be lost. He couldn't fight whilst in the memories – he didn't even realise they were memories when he was there.

He glared at Voldemort, whose eyes were creased slightly in concentration, and searched for another iota of power to bring to the battle. Voldemort raised his arm slowly in a gesture of warding, and Harry could see the beginnings of a grimace. Harry concentrated upon the room that he wanted to force Voldemort into once more and-

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

A pitiful whine sounded in the distance. Harry looked desperately at Hermione beside him.

"Sirius!" He shouted. "Sirius!"

Without waiting for Hermione to reply, he set off at a run towards the lake. That's where Sirius was, and he was in trouble. Harry would not let his Godfather down, he wouldn't. He raced through the trees, twisting out of the way of the branches even before they swung towards him so that they missed him by inches – every second counted.

With abrupt certainty, Harry knew what made Sirius howl pitifully as soon as the noise reached his ears. Dementors. The slight chill of their presence greeted him, but his mind was crystal clear. He needed his Patronus. He had to concentrate upon the wand formation for dear life, and find the happiest memory he could, whether it was the day he discovered he was a wizard; the day Hermione had shielded him and Ron from the teachers when they had fought the troll, or possibly the day his Snitch had won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. Perhaps, even, Sirius giving him a home, singing Christmas carols in the house he would leave to Harry and Remus, or else Ron's face when the twins had forced him to own up to his love of Hermione.

He ran on, wand even now ready to sketch the movement it needed to make, the movement that would save more than just him. Hermione was falling behind, not as agile as Harry was as he avoided the obstacles in the way.

He burst into the clearing by the lake to find Sirius on his knees as a man, unable to fight against hordes of Dementors. There must have been at least a hundred of them, but Harry found no sound of his mother in his head this time, nor did he feel the nausea that he associated with them. He continued to sprint, raising his wand, certain that he could produce a Patronus so powerful that it would have little trouble even with all the Dementors that surrounded Sirius, and that now turned towards him.

"Expecto Patronum!" He screamed.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

A large brown shape, with a touch of silver, sprung from his wand as he lay on his back. With a thump, it slammed into the man standing above him, causing Voldemort to scream in a high pitched shriek of pain. For three yards the stag ran, pouring rain seeming to curve in order to miss it as it carried Voldemort on its antlers. Stopping abruptly, the man it was carrying flew through the air, smashing against the wall behind him.

Harry gasped in pain, large droplets of water pounding his body and open mouth as he returned out of his own mind to the real world. He stared at the house in front of him, and then up to the grey clouds above it, disorientated.

_Sirius, I have to save Sirius. No… Wait. Dudley was here somewhere, wasn't he? So was… Quirrell? Snape! I'll be expelled. I'm-_

Something spongy touched his side, and his mind cleared immediately. Forcing his aching limbs to move, he got to his feet, Graphorn Vest weighing him down. Beside him stood his Patronus, but it was different somehow. More brown than silver, and with defined edges to its limbs rather than fading into the surroundings, there was also resistance as it pressed itself into Harry, so that only an inch or so of it passed through his body. Harry raised a hand to lay on its flank in confusion. This was definitely his Patronus, but Prongs was far more physical than any Patronus he had ever produced before. Than _any_ Patronus he had ever even heard of.

A sound snapped his attention back towards the person in front of him. A snarl left Voldemort's mouth as he regained his feet. Whether it was from pain or from tiredness, Harry didn't know, but Voldemort looked unsteady.

"What have you done?" Voldemort hissed, before raising his hand towards Harry. "Answer me! What have you done? Imperio!"

Harry had already braced himself once he had seen the motion Voldemort's hand had made, but the Patronus beside him sprang in front of him protectively. A flash of bright silver sparks momentarily joined hand and Patronus, and Voldemort screamed in agony as his spell was intercepted by Prongs.

Barely understanding what was happening, Harry still had the presence of mind to mentally command his Patronus to attack his enemy, and it sprang forward. Voldemort whirled on the spot just before it reached him, and there was a loud crack as he disapparated. Harry twisted immediately as a second thunderous sound split the air, to see Voldemort drop to one knee alongside the hedge at the rear of the garden, a good twenty yards away from him.

Even from his posture of evident pain, Voldemort raised a hand towards him, "Crucio!"

Harry dived to the side, hearing the spell hit the wall of the house behind him, rolling, and getting to his feet again, his own limbs starting to feel leaden. "Falxiardor!"

Voldemort stumbled to the side, avoiding the curse which hit the hedge but for some reason failed to set it alight.

_Am __I __really __that __weak?_ Alarmed, Harry moved sideways, back towards the side of the house Ron was. Perhaps he could still get him and escape somehow. His thoughts seemed sluggish rather, as if the exertions of the day had taken almost all the strength he had to offer. His aching body attested to that hypothesis.

A moment later his Patronus once more made contact with his skin and Harry's mind worked faster once more. Incredibly Voldemort seemed as worn down as he felt. It was as if contact with Harry's Patronus had hurt Voldemort in a manner that had struck him to his very innermost being. It was so strange – Patronuses only ever hurt Dementors or one or two other very rare creatures; they certainly didn't hurt humans. In fact, they tended to do the opposite when they touched a person, they-

"Expecto Patronum!" Voldemort said, sounding a little more in control of himself now, but there was still a definite tinge of tiredness in his voice.

From his hand, a large, wispy, silver snake emerged, which slithered forward towards Harry. Harry didn't know whether it was merely fancy, but there seemed a wrongness to it, or perhaps a darkness. His own Patronus moved forward to engage it, and Harry's mind seemed to slow down once more. He shook his head, train of thought interrupted, and turned, stumbling forwards alongside the rear of the house as the two Patronuses met.

Prongs lowered its head, and barrelled into the snake, which flew backwards once, before disappearing in a puff of silvery light. Harry's Patronus continued on, as though it had not met any resistance whatsoever, and it arrowed in towards the Dark Lord. Hesitation quickly replaced the pain that had wracked Voldemort's face as his own Patronus had been disposed of, and once more he disapparated.

Harry turned around as an answering sound told him Voldemort had reappeared behind him. Understanding slowly dawned upon him that Voldemort comprehended about as much as he did about the Patronus, and why it was causing Voldemort such pain. He didn't know what to do to counteract it either, it seemed. A spell shot from his open palm towards him and it slammed into Harry's hastily cast Protego shield, throwing him backwards - and in the process demolishing the spell's protection. Harry rolled over and over, winded and disorientated by the fall, before he came to rest upon his chest. Single-mindedly he struggled upright once more, wand held unsteadily to respond to the next spell coming his way.

Voldemort however, had not cast a follow up spell, but rather was looking around in concern. Initially Harry imagined he must have been looking for his Patronus, which was even now cantering back to him to offer its strange form of protection, but a moment later something truly strange caught his eye. The sky seemed to be glowing in a wide dome around them which encompassed the entire house and grounds.

Voldemort let out a wordless sound of anger, before throwing his hand towards Harry once more – hissing venomously: "Crucio!"

Harry slipped in his tiredness, avoiding the curse by more luck than skill. He caught himself with his left hand and forced himself back to an upright position. Voldemort took a couple of steps forward, himself looking weary, and stopping warily as Prongs retook its position in front of Harry. The lucidity Harry seemed to gain as his Patronus touched him returned, and he became aware that he had reached the corner of the house. He turned, staggering around it, and putting solid brick between the two of them. Not ten yards away lay Ron, wrapped around the trunk of a tree, and Harry pushed himself towards him, not sure what he would do once he got there, but needing to get there nonetheless. The sound of Voldemort disapparating a third time reached his ears, and he reappeared the other side of Ron, in the front garden.

The sky stopped glowing suddenly in a flash of bright light which momentarily stunned Harry. By the time he had opened his eyes once more, many figures stood on the road behind Voldemort, as well as to his side in the field which lay beside Chaser's Rest. There had to be at least twenty or thirty of them, Harry thought as he stumbled forwards, falling to the ground in his exhaustion. He opened his mouth as he recognised one of them, and his long, flowing white beard.

"Dumbledore." He gasped.

Voldemort looked behind him for a fraction of a second, before returning his attention towards Harry. All of the men seemed to be concentrating fiercely, their wands connected with a barrier of some sorts, as though trying to bring down a ward. From his knees, Harry could see Voldemort's forehead crease in thought, as though calculating how long he would have before having to face Dumbledore. Harry forced his hand upright to point it at Voldemort, not knowing what spell he intended to cast; his Patronus pushed past him to stand between them.

Abruptly Voldemort scowled, bringing his hand to the pocket of his cloak. "I have what I wanted, child. Your days are numbered."

With a lone, loud, snapping sound, he disappeared.

The knowledge that Voldemort had fled stunned him for only a moment – more important things entered his mind as he made contact with his Patronus once more. Harry forced himself forward on all fours towards Ron's body, his Patronus leading his leaden limbs. His vision was starting to blur but he pushed himself on towards his friend's body. As he reached Ron's side he practically fell on top of him, his hand lying on top of his fellow sixth year's chest. It rose and fell with the breathing. Harry left his hand there, unsure whether he was feeling what he thought he was.

Everything seemed so dull, so… numb. Figures and shapes around him blurred into each other – as though even with his glasses, his eyesight was dreadful. Head swimming, he looked across at the body lying on the ground not far away. _Percy._

He forced his body to move once more, every muscle complaining, and wavering from side to side. How long it took to crawl across the short ground he didn't know – it felt like forever – but eventually he was crouched in the wet, bloody mud beside Percy's corpse. His hands fumbled on Percy's robe, too numb to grip properly. He gave up, reaching instead for his wand, concentrating on the words he needed.

Percy's robe sleeve fell away, cut by Harry's spell, leaving his bare arm underneath. Harry fought to control his failing eyesight and stared at it, not entirely sure why, but knowing it was for some reason important. His vision cleared for a short moment, and he saw an unblemished arm.

He fell to the floor, rolling onto his back with the last of his strength. The last thing he saw was a great stag, standing protectively above him.


	39. Awakenings

**Chapter 39: Awakenings**

Voldemort stared at the book in front of him, doing his best to push away the pain in his head and body, not to mention his tiredness. He would not allow himself to dwell on his failure this evening. It wasn't even a failure: this book held the answer to all of his dreams – and it would be the solution to all of his irritants. Even the spells protecting the book were unusually strong, the magic within was sure to be devastating.

He felt filled with frustration. Treasures were hidden inside, and yet he was merely looking at it warily. He sat back in his chair, grimacing slightly at the unaccustomed pain which greeted the movement. A knock came at the door.

"Master," Bellatrix' voice trembled slightly, "you requested my presence?"

Voldemort found his mouth twisting into a smile. _Even __Bellatrix __Lestrange, __who __enjoys __pain __so __much __she __now __often __enjoys __her __own, __is __scared __of __Lord __Voldemort. _The sudden pleasure vanished. _Her __punishment __would __have __to __wait __at __least __one __more __day. _The mouth warped into a scowl. _That __fight __with __the __Muggle-loving __fool __had __tired __me __more __than __I __had __allowed __for. __It __had __not __been __the __child. _He thumped his hand on the desk. _It __couldn__'__t __have __been. __A __Patronus? __Nonsense. __And __yet__…_

"Come in, Bella."

Nagini looked up from where she lay by the hearth, in this, the warden's room of Azkaban. She had expected his just retribution for Lestrange's fool of a husband's failure, yet the way he had invited Bellatrix in held nothing which promised that. Weakness was not something she was accustomed to seeing from him. He flared his nostrils in anger and spoke in Parseltongue.

"She shall be dealt with later, Nagini. For now she remains my second, and therefore must see to the needs of my servants, and my new headquarters."

"You are exhausted." Nagini told him in quiet disapproval.

Bellatrix fell to her knees as she entered the room, not daring to look either at her master, or at her master's snake, although Voldemort could see her control a nervous twitch towards Nagini as the snake replied. Lestrange was braced for the Cruciatus curse, he could tell.

Voldemort said nothing, controlling his angry response to the snake. She was right, and she knew it. Deceit held no purpose here – they had a bond unlike any he had had with a snake before. Nagini, alone of the snakes he had met in Albania, had been strong enough to survive whilst he possessed her, and that possession had left its imprint upon the two of them.

"Not exhausted..." He responded frostily, "merely... mildly tired."

That was the most he could allow, even to her. Nagini simply hissed in wordless amusement. Bellatrix flinched.

Voldemort remained silent for a few more moments, allowing his Death Eater to sweat in fear.

"Stand, Bella." He ensured his voice remained cold and strong as he eventually answered. _Leave __her __with __the __knowledge __that __this __is __only __a __delay __and __not __a __reprieve._ "I have more important things to do with my time than see to the needs of my Death Eaters. You will see to provisional defences of our current accommodation and entertainment for those that remain here. Those of my followers who infiltrated the prison are allowed first pleasure from our captives."

Lestrange's voice caught in her throat as she replied, "Yes, my Lord. Are there limitations to what they can do with this vermin?"

"Only that they must remain sane and whole," Voldemort replied icily, "I shall interview them myself tomorrow."

Her breath caught again at his tone – not with fear of retribution this time, Voldemort saw, but... anticipation? His eyes flashed with disgust: as useful and loyal as Bellatrix was, she was also… damaged. She was not suited for the position that had once been Severus'. Soon he would have to make up his mind about the man – Lucius had already showed his unsuitability for the role.

"And the Dementors, Master?" She asked, shuddering and sounding a little unsure.

"After I have interrogated the prisoners they may get their souls, but not before. Allow them to feed off their emotions but no more than that."

"Yes, my Lord. But..." She trailed off, face hidden behind her mask.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed – that one word would ordinarily have been enough to earn punishment. She _wanted_ his punishment. Habit caused his wand arm to itch, but he controlled the feeling. He allowed his voice, however, to grow dangerous.

"You may leave, Bella. See to my orders."

Nagini hissed suddenly from her place on the rug, causing Lestrange to bow deeply, and back out of the room. _She __does __not __wish __to __risk __Nagini__'__s __venom, __at __least, _Voldemort noted.

The door closed as she left, and Voldemort returned his attention to the book in front of him. Automatically he withdrew his wand and waved it towards the door to place privacy wards which would keep him uninterrupted. He winced at their relative weakness, before eying the Scrivenings again. In his current state...

Wards would first have to be set, and precautions taken, before he probed the spells which protected Salazar's work. Who knew what defences it could have to snare the unwary? He would at least set the groundwork for his spells before he allowed his body to recuperate. He cleared his mind to eliminate possible mistakes – he hadn't needed to do that since he was a child, and yet he would not risk erring.

He stopped in alarm as his mind emptied. The boy was there, so quiet it was not surprising he hadn't noticed him. When had that Potter boy become so adept at hiding his presence? It was not as if he were particularly skilled at Occlumency, even if he _had_ eventually shown more skill than he had anticipated. But he was lurking in his mind without showing a sign of thought. Just hiding, and watching what there was to be seen.

He pulled together his own Occlumency defences and thrust towards the invading mind. He struck, forcing it out and felt it respond in an almost animalistic fashion. Pain exploded in his body, and it convulsed in distress, causing him to scream in agony.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry's back arched viciously for one long moment, before it returned to lie on the bed. His body started to jerk in spasms, and groans – almost grunts – came from his mouth. Noise erupted around him, but he had only the faintest awareness of it.

Abruptly his body stopped moving. It wasn't that his seizure had stopped, but rather something was blanketing its influence. It was a strange feeling, for part of him could still sense the movements his body should have been making, and the pain which accompanied them, and yet they were somehow... removed into the distance. He couldn't move a muscle – even open his eyelids. The noise around him started to separate itself into voices, which he tried to pay attention to, if only to drown out his other sensations.

"No!" The voice – Snape's – yelled with fury. "You must not. If he is at all conscious, he has information we need."

"My duty is to my patient, Severus." Poppy responded angrily. "You shall have to wait until he is well."

"You do not know what is right for the boy, or his friend. You have said yourself that you cannot treat Weasley without knowing more of what left him in this state."

"Mr Weasley is stable. His condition shall not change in a couple of days. Mr Potter's body needs to recover. Potter, however, requires this enforced rest. Without it _he __cannot_ recover."

"We need his memory of what happened." Snape replied vehemently. "Professor Dumbledore needs it so that he can react to what the Dark Lord may do next – which might save not only Potter, but also all the rest of us. You need it so that Weasley can be treated. You say that he is stable, but I know how precarious those charms you are using to keep him that way can be."

"He is in no condition to give you that memory, Severus. He is conscious, but only barely – he will not understand any request you could make. And he cannot use magic in this state. He may look calm now, but he is still suffering whilst we speak."

All Harry could concentrate upon were the two voices, which seemed to fade and move around. The pain and compulsion to spasm was getting stronger and more insistent; he felt as if it could swamp him at any moment and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Then let me do as I said I would before. He is an Occlumens; I can lend him awareness by..."

Harry bucked violently once more, racked with convulsions. They swallowed him up so that he was aware of nothing else, not even his voice.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When awareness returned to him, he was once again in that state where the pain was being largely held back, but this time he seemed to have some movement available to him. He opened his eyes, looking up onto the ceiling of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry.

"Potter..."

The voice sounded strained almost to breaking, and Harry raised his head to see who it was. As he did so there was an intake of breath, as though the act of his moving was causing the other person pain. Standing not ten yards away from him in his Occlumency Sanctuary was Professor Severus Snape. Harry scrambled to his feet, unable to avoid noticing the look on Snape's face as he did so, and also feeling the hurt returning himself.

"Hold... still." Snape breathed. "Do nothing."

As Harry paused, Snape's face eased, and his own pain faded too.

"Your magical energy has been used up. That is what is causing your seizures – your body is trying to repair itself by using magic which is not there. The more you try to do, the worse you will find it."

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, and Snape fell to his knees.

"I said do nothing," He hissed, "nothing until I tell you to." Snape stood once more. "I am sharing your pain so that you can be lucid. We need your help to save Weasley. We must know what happened to you both in Godric's Hollow."

A sudden wave of pain hit Harry and he fell to all fours, panting. Raising his head he could see Snape lying on the floor, jerking. The pain began to fade again. Snape was sweating, Harry could see, as the man stopped convulsing. The Potions Master forced himself back upright.

"This is the only way we can get the memory from you – you must show it to me. Show me the memory, Potter, so that I can show Poppy and Albus."

Harry paused only for a second, but Snape responded in what might have been anger, or only irritation, it was hard to tell.

"You know this cannot help the Dark Lord, Potter – he was there. He knows what happened; those that are fighting him do not."

Harry concentrated sharply, causing Snape to scream in pain.

When Snape stopped writhing, a shadowy amorphous shape floated in the air between them. Snape yet again pulled himself upright, and stared directly at Harry, emerald green eyes meeting black pits. He nodded, and stretched out a hand...

Harry's seizures overtook him once more, before blackness enveloped him.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Consciousness gradually returned.

Voices spoke in the background, their tones overlapping and combining into discordant music. Harry dimly registered an increase in volume; his eyes fought to open in response. They responded sluggishly, demanding an immense effort to open. After a struggling few seconds, he gave up; instead he concentrated upon his hearing, and tried to separate each voice, assigning them an owner.

Mrs Weasley's voice was the first he noticed. The touch of hysteria hidden behind its tearful sound screamed out to his senses. Unable though he was to yet grasp the words she spoke, he could feel the pain in her voice, and the fear she could not completely hold in check.

Remus was there too. His voice was calmer than Mrs Weasley's, and although there was fear and pain of his own contained within, he also exuded an intensity and a forcefulness which seemed to exert control over any other emotions in the room.

Ginny's voice was harder to separate from the other noises that surrounded Harry. It was both raw and coarse, most unlike Ginny's usual voice, and Harry had to concentrate as much as he could as it rose and fell in pitch before he could place it. Ginny whispered more than talked, as if she was struggling to speak, and more than once her cough was a rasp – provoking concern from Mrs Weasley.

One of the Weasley twins was also in the room, Harry realised, although he was unable to tell which of them it was. It was almost as hard to place him as it had been Ginny, for the voice was without exception serious and filled with worry. Harry was sure that only one of the pair was in the room as the voice never moved.

Harry allowed the voices to wash over him – the act of understanding the words they spoke still beyond him. Instead he found himself noting their emotions change as they talked – Mrs Weasley fluctuating between the paralytic effect of fear, and the hysteria of panic; and the strength in Remus' voice rising or falling as it reacted in an effort to calm her. The only person he couldn't read was Ginny.

Two new voices joined those he had managed to separate, momentarily reducing it to mere noise again. As he extricated Ginny's voice from the amalgam once more, he distinctly heard her cough violently. One of the new voices rose above the others in disapproval. It was Madam Pomfrey. Ginny rasped back to her strictures in protest.

The last voice said something quietly. The hollowness within plucked at Harry's emotions. Hermione sounded as though she were struggling to feel – as though either she had exhausted her feelings, or else had locked them up tightly out of reach to prevent them overwhelming her. There were traces of something else within her intonations, but Harry couldn't place them. Self censure, perhaps, or guilt.

_Guilt… Who was she feeling guilty about?_

Panic abruptly struck him. Ron – where was Ron? Vague awareness that Ron had been in trouble struck him. He had been sent flying by a glowing wall of light, hadn't he? He had struck a tree and then fell motionless, wrapped around it. A memory of green light flying towards a prone Ron suddenly invaded his thoughts.

He struggled – more through instinct than anything. He had to force his eyes open, to move, to discover what had happened to Ron.

Madam Pomfrey's voice returned, commandingly, and without warning blackness overwhelmed him once more.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Harry!" There was still a roughness to Ginny's voice, but it was a lot better than when he had last heard it, and her relief at seeing him was palpable. "How are you feeling? And don't pretend you're fine." She added dryly.

Harry smiled from the bed where he was sitting upright. "I've been better." He admitted. "It's strange, actually, my arms, legs – everything to be honest – feel really tired."

They ached, too. Even pulling himself up so that he was sitting had been a painful process. The aches in his body seemed somehow _deeper_ than any pain he had felt before.

"That's because of your lack of magic;" Ginny said quietly, "Madam Pomfrey said magic helps heal our bodies automatically."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Strange to think that Muggles must heal so much slower than we do. Can't say it's the most pleasant experience I've ever had."

He swallowed slightly, and studied Ginny. She seemed quite composed at first glance, but that was only because she looked better rested than Harry had often seen her this year – almost certainly due to the potions she herself had been taking to heal her throat – and that the more reserved her movements and speech were, the less pain she would be in. Her looks towards Ron's bed, however, were enough to tell Harry just how worried she was.

"How are you?" He asked her quietly.

"Me?" Ginny gave a small smile, but lowered her eyes to the ground. "I'm…" She sighed, and then opened her mouth to continue.

"Harry!" Remus' voice sounded in relief from the doorway as he followed Madam Pomfrey into the Hospital Wing.

With them were Mr Weasley, George, and Hermione. Hermione's eyes seemed to uncrease slightly as she saw him, as though a worry had been lifted, but whilst she smiled, Harry had the unshakeable feeling that much of her expression was forced. His answering smile, however, was genuine. He was relieved to see them.

Ginny had jerked round as they entered, and when Harry next saw her face, her lips were tightly sealed.

Harry greeted them quietly – he didn't feel strong enough to do anything more – but before any of them could say anything of substance, Madam Pomfrey gave strict instructions that neither he nor Ginny were to strain themselves. There would, apparently, be a time limit upon the stay.

"How did you find us?" Harry asked quietly as Madam Pomfrey let them be. "I don't understand- How could anyone know?"

"Ron made a Portkey," Ginny replied, "and he sent it to where you'd just come from." She turned to look at Hermione, but Harry couldn't catch her expression.

Hermione spoke in a very quiet voice. "He must have conjured a note and pencil, wrote where you were and that there had to be charms that hurt anyone who tried to get through them; and then turned it into a Portkey. It just appeared while everyone was trying to work out where you went."

Harry was silent for a moment as he took in what she said. He found it hard to remember anything about what had happened, but something had clearly hurt Ron. The last – and clearest - memory he had was of Percy's arm. But why?

"Hermione said she knew it was Ron who sent it because it tried to burst into flames."

Harry thought Ginny's remark was calculated to cause Hermione to smile, but her face remained troubled. Harry glanced across to the bed where Ron lay motionless, surrounded by a slightly off-translucent charm which was keeping him stable.

"Ron;" He said quietly, "how is he?"

Mr Weasley's face was pale, and he sounded exhausted as he replied. "He will be fine, Harry. I imagine Poppy has already told you more than we can add. Hopefully he will wake this evening, but if not, then perhaps he'll wake up in the night. Poppy says that when he comes round, he will likely feel perfectly well. All his injuries have been healed, so as long as his mind…" He trailed off in worry.

Remus immediately responded confidently, "I'm sure Ron will be all right, Arthur. Whilst I imagine this is the first recorded incident of its kind, as I understand it the theory is reasonably simple, and there should be no danger of damage to Ron's brain. Fortunately we know exactly what caused i-"

"How did you find out what happened?" Harry interrupted. "How do you know what caused it? If I was out col…"

He trailed off, there was a vague memory nagging at him.

"Snape?" He asked.

George nodded. "Yeah. He got the memory from you, and then told Madam Pomfrey that Ron got caught by some kind of magical barrier you and You-Know-Who created."

"Yeah…" Harry said slowly. "I think there was something else, though…"

"You don't remember?" Mr Weasley asked in concern.

"It's vague. Madam Pomfrey said it's just an effect of how I'm feeling. It's not just yesterday, it's everything."

"It was a week ago, Harry." Ginny was the one who broke it to him gently. "Yesterday morning you almost woke up, but something went wrong, and Madam Pomfrey made you sleep again."

"A week? And Ron is still-?" Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember exactly what had happened.

He was thrown into a memory.

_Ron's horror stricken face stared at Percy's motionless body in disbelief. Rain pounded around them, and he stepped forwards towards his brother, who was in a pool of blood, mud, and water._

Pain speared through Harry's body.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was lying on his side. Madam Pomfrey's strong arms helped him back into a sitting position, before she pressed a potion into his hand.

"Drink." She commanded sternly. "I told you not to do any magic, Mr Potter. Do I have to take away your wand?"

"I didn't!" Harry protested, and Ginny backed him up. "I was just trying to remember what happened to Ron."

Pomfrey looked exasperated. "So you automatically used mind magic. Potter, Occlumency is a form of magic. Muggles can not do what you as an Occlumens can do. When you no longer find your memories hazy – _then_ is when you are safe to use Occlumency again. Please refrain from it or else I shall have to charm you unconscious once more. Now drink."

Harry blinked as he drank the potion; he suddenly felt light and woozy. A moment later everything regained focus. He found himself nodding.

When Pomfrey had gone for a second time, Harry turned to the people around his bed, speaking slowly. "What… happened to Percy?"

As he saw their faces and remembered the sliver of a memory he had just seen, he immediately knew the answer. George's face had turned grey, and he looked almost ill, but his fists were powerfully clenched. Arthur Weasley blinked, his eyes suddenly seeming red to Harry, but also suggesting depths of emotions that he couldn't even guess at. Hermione's jaw clenched as though she were fighting to keep emotions at bay. Ginny looked away, so that nobody could see her face.

Remus, however, just looked down sadly before speaking softly. "He's dead, Harry. We found you beside his body. He had on him the Portkey that had taken you and Ron to Godric's Hollow."

With a sudden sound, George rose from his chair and strode away from the bed. He was shaking, Harry could see.

"George," Mr Weasley said in deep sadness, "we do not know why Percy did what he did. We don't even know how long he was working for You-Know-Who. It may have been the Imperius-"

"Everything he did and said," George replied in an anger which was tinged with disbelief, "it was all lies. He only even apologised so that he-"

"He wasn't a Death Eater!" Harry cut across him. "He didn't have the Dark Mark on him. Whatever he did or was, he wasn't that."

"How do you know?" Ginny burst in, and then coughed loudly, forcing her to quieten. "You said you didn't remember anythi- Do- Do you remember anything else?" She asked him tentatively.

Harry shook his head and lied as the bit of his memory he had recalled replayed itself in his head. "Not right now. The last thing I can remember seeing was Percy's arm, and it was perfectly clear. He didn't have the Dark Mark, I would swear it."

Harry closed his eyes – his head was starting to throb.

"Harry?" Remus asked in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Just a headache." He muttered. "Is everyone else…" He glanced at George. "Is Fred?"

"The rest of us got through it safely." Mr Weasley assured him, turning his troubled face from George. "Bill is in St Mungo's. He needed a Mind Healer, so there was nowhere else he could go. So far the security has not even been tested, thankfully, and he should be released soon. Molly, Fred and Charlie are there at the moment. Fleur, fortunately, has been by his side through all of this. I think she has been a great help."

"You will no doubt be pleased to hear that Professor Aravenne also escaped." Remus told him with a slight frown Harry didn't understand. At his blank face, Mooney continued. "In case you can't remember, you had a madcap plan which involved saving him from Voldemort's clutches by getting Voldemort to fire curses at you instead, before vanishing via Portkey. Thankfully for Syde Aravenne, not to mention you, it worked. He has asked if you could go to see him so he can thank you."

"Where is he?"

"He's being treated in his room here in the castle," Remus said, "as I understand it, his injuries are not ones Madam Pomfrey is qualified to deal with, yet he refuses to go to St Mungo's. For some reason, Dumbledore listened to those pleas.

Harry's head started to swim, and he swayed woozily. He closed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to clear it.

"Harry?" Ginny asked in concern.

"I don't think I'm going to be that talkative." He lay back against the cushions behind him. "Sorry."

"Do you want us to let you rest?" George asked in concern, still standing, but now looking as though he had controlled his emotions.

"Please stay." Harry told him, opening his eyes again. "If it's okay with you, anyway. You don't have to." He grimaced and yawned. "I don't know if it's the potion I just took, or what, but I'm finding it hard to think straight."

"It's good just to see you starting to get better." Remus assured him.

"How did my magic end so drained, anyway?" Harry asked, yawning again, the tiredness seeming to sweep in upon him now that he had acknowledged it.

It was Arthur Weasley who answered. "When we found you, there was what we think was your Patronus standing over you, although…" he shook his head. "Anyway, it refused to let us approach, even while you were unconscious, before it suddenly just disappeared."

"We imagine that must have been when your magic ran out." Remus added.

Harry nodded, his eyes threatening to droop once more. He rested his head on the headboard.

After a pause which threatened to go on indefinitely, Remus began talking more generally, and as everyone else joined into the conversation, Harry let himself relax. It was nice just to have the companionship: even if their conversation included rather nasty truths, such as the fact that Voldemort's attack had also been calculated to take the new Azkaban, with the help – they believed – of traitors amongst the prison guard who had armed the prisoners.

That, however, he didn't fixate upon: worse things preyed upon the back of his mind. Whilst his memory was foggy, he was starting to suspect something very bad indeed had happened. Something to do with how Percy had died.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Ron didn't wake that afternoon, nor the night that followed. Early morning, however, a painful shriek filled the air, waking Harry up. Ron soon fell silent, and Madam Pomfrey appeared as though by apparition, and entered the curtained off area.

"He needs time and rest." She said quietly as she eventually emerged. "He's not ready for visitors yet. Albus said he had undergone the Cruciatus curse for a time, but I had not realised how prolonged it must have been."

"He'll be okay?" Harry asked anxiously.

His memories of the fight against Voldemort had become clearer and clearer, and he could remember vividly Ron's shrieks of pain, not to mention Voldemort's threat to torture Ron to insanity. He could remember it _all_ now, but he still had not told anyone else exactly how Percy had died. He started to feel sick if he even thought about it for too long. He had no idea what to do, but he felt that telling Ron's family behind his back would have been unpardonable. Snape and Dumbledore must know already, but they clearly hadn't told anyone else. _Snape_ hadn't told anyone?

"He will," Madam Pomfrey reassured him, "however, what he needs right now is peace and quiet. He is understandably confused as to where he is, and what has happened. Please do not disturb him until I give you permission."

Harry nodded. "Ok." As she turned away from him he called her name. "Um, yesterday… Remus said Professor Aravenne asked to see me. Will that be okay?"

Madam Pomfrey eyed him. "Depending upon how you are today, I may allow you to see him tomorrow. He is in a rather delicate state himself, so I'm afraid you will have to go down to see him in his rooms. I have already informed Professor Dumbledore that he will be able to interrogate you tomorrow and so, as long as you do nothing to set back your recovery, I think it's quite likely."

As she turned to organise his morning potions, he considered Aravenne. Whilst most of his memory seemed to have returned, he was still being told by Madam Pomfrey to delay accessing his memories, and he dearly wanted to check his memories of King's Cross. Aravenne had talked with Voldemort, Harry was sure, but part of him was certain he had misheard. Had Voldemort actually called him 'Regulus'? It was impossible, surely? Aravenne _had_ claimed Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his brother…

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said from his side – he hadn't noticed her return – "now, drink these and then remain still. I want to cast some charms to check how well your magic reserves are refilling."

The talking, prodding, and directions he had to follow prevented him from pursuing his thoughts, but the more he did manage to think about it, the more unbelievable it became.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Harry sat up. It didn't hurt quite so much any more; although he was still banned from doing magic, his reserves were apparently starting to return. As they did, his need for sleep had started to abate also, and that – along with the fact that he had dozed much of the afternoon away – was keeping him awake now. An extremely tearful Mrs Weasley had visited today, along with Charlie and Fred but they had not been allowed to see Ron, and in that Harry was next door to Ron, they hadn't been given much time to spend with Harry either. Ginny had been given permission by Madam Pomfrey to visit Bill, with the other Weasleys. Combined, that meant Harry had not had much to do other than nap during the day, and that he was awake during the night.

Giving up trying to sleep, he slid his legs to the floor, the mattress squeaking beneath him, and stood, his bare feet cold on the tiled floor and causing him to give an audible intake of breath.

"Harry?" Ron's voice came through the curtain separating them.

Harry jumped as the voice seemed unusually loud across the quiet night.

"Harry?" Ron asked again hesitantly. "Are you there?"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "You're awake!"

He took a couple of steps forward to open the curtain, but Ron's next uncertain words stopped him.

"Percy. What-? He's dead, isn't he?"

Hand outstretched to draw the curtain back, Harry just stared at it for a couple of seconds before making himself reply, dreading the words he would have to say after that.

"Yes."

"How did he die?" The now soft voice was filled with a desperate plea that Harry wasn't sure he could face.

Harry swallowed and grabbed hold of the curtain. When Ron was told, it should be done face to face. Maybe he could offer some sort of comfort just by being there.

"Don't!" Ron snapped loudly as the curtain started to pull back. Harry let go in surprise.

"Colloportus." Ron's spell caused the curtain to close once more. Harry didn't test it to see if it had also locked it in place. "Please," Ron continued, "just tell me how he died."

"He…" The words stuck in Harry's throat. "He fell onto a spike. It… It went right through him."

"Who killed him?" Ron asked, voice trembling.

Harry didn't – couldn't – respond.

"Who killed him, Harry?" Ron's voice rose in both volume and hysteria as it became clear Harry wouldn't answer.

"Ron, it-" Harry's voice failed him.

"It was me, wasn't it? I killed him. _I_ killed him. Percy." His voice turned into a shout, racked with pain. "I killed my own brother!"

Ron started to weep behind the screen, whatever words he was trying to say garbled beyond comprehension, whilst Harry could only stand there helplessly. He spoke Ron's name gently but insistently, trying to return Ron's thoughts to him, and away from Percy, but he couldn't think of anything he could say. Not whilst he was speaking at a curtain to a disembodied voice.

As Ron's sobs quietened, he spoke again, in barely a whisper. "I killed him. How can I face them? Merlin, how can I ever even look at them again, Harry?"

Harry took a couple of steps backwards, and sat back down on his hospital bed. "You aren't to blame, Ron."

"Then who is?" Ron demanded. "I held the wand. I cast the spell."

"Voldemort's to blame. Percy was to blame. Not you. You did the right thing."

"How the hell can _killing __my __own __brother_ ever be the right thing?"

Harry felt sick to his stomach; he could only guess as to how Ron felt. Probably similarly to the way he had felt when Sirius had died. He tried to make his voice strong and reassuring as he replied.

"You attacked the person who had taken us to Voldemort, who had stolen the Scrivenings. Right after you'd seen him cast spells at me, too. I'm pretty sure that was the right thing to do."

Silence met that statement. Ron broke it finally, as though he had only just realised something. "Percy… was a Death Eater?"

"No." Harry said immediately, shaking his head fiercely – and pointlessly. "He wasn't a Death Eater. But he wasn't under the Imperius curse either. Voldemort had tricked him into helping him."

"How exactly do you trick someone into doing that?" Ron asked. "Percy must have wanted to do it – he hardly just ran at you and activated a Portkey by accident."

Harry pinched his nose. He couldn't help but feel Ron was almost hoping Percy had been a Death Eater, feeling it would justify the fact he had killed him. In a way, Harry could understand, and yet he knew Ron's guilt would only intensify if he told him just why Percy had done it.

"Harry?"

_But it would be worse if he found out from someone else later. Better to get it over with now._

He sighed. "Voldemort persuaded Percy that if he helped him, he wouldn't hurt any of you. That as long as Percy helped him, all of Percy's family would be safe. And Percy believed him."

There was a second long silence, and this time Ron didn't break it.

"Ron…" Harry ventured, eventually. "Ron, you won't believe me, but I know how you're feeling."

He'd been expecting an angry response yet he was still taken aback by its ferocity.

"No, you don't, Harry. Name one time you pointed your wand at someone, killed them, and that person wasn't a Death Eater, let alone your bloody brother. Don't even try to pretend you have a clue about how I feel."

_I __felt __as __though __I __cast __the __spell __that __killed __Sirius. __That __felt __as __real __to __me __as __anything. _The words almost formed themselves in Harry's head on their own, so much of a part of him they had become the last summer. _And __I __knew __that __was __how __you__'__d __respond, __too._

Not knowing what else to do, Harry tried again: "Ron, you don't understand. To begin with, that was exactly how it felt to me when Sirius died. When I relived it, I _was_ holding the w-"

"Which is why you hate Bellatrix Lestrange so much?" Ron interrupted angrily. "You're really not helping Harry. Just… Leave me alone."

"You-"

Ron's voice cut over his as he cast a silencing charm on the curtains surrounding his bed. The rest of Harry's sentence trailed away helplessly.

After a long minute sitting mutely, Harry stood once more, opened his bed's screens, and sat down at a table opposite beside the curtained window. He resisted the urge to open them and stare into the night sky in an attempt to lose himself. Mars would inevitably attract his attention if he did. And anyway, he suspected there was too much going on inside his mind for that to work.

Ron was right, of course. Sirius' death wasn't the same as Percy's – but Ron didn't realise that it worked both ways. Yes, Harry had not held the wand, but he had directly caused Sirius to be there. Ron couldn't have done a single thing differently to change what had happened. He knew quite well however, that Ron would not be able to see it that way. At least not yet, anyway.

It might take a while before Ron would be able to apportion blame where it really belonged. Harry hadn't been able to, after all: his first two targets for blame had been himself, and then Dumbledore. The two people most to blame, of course, were Voldemort and Bellatrix. He'd had his chance to get revenge on _her_ tonight but had failed.

Harry found himself reliving their fight, from the moment she had aimed the curse at Ginny to the moment Aravenne had sent Harry back to his three friends. He had drawn first blood, and he had also tried to kill Bellatrix with the Avada Kedavra curse. He wasn't completely sure whether or not he was relieved he had missed. If it had struck, by the letter of the law he should have been sent to Azkaban – even if Scrimgeour had implied he might have turned a blind eye had that happened in Hogsmeade. If it had hit, Lestrange would have been gone. And if anyone could be said to deserve death, Lestrange could.

And then that number Lestrange had asked him about – how many people he had killed – would have been five. _Six!_ Harry corrected himself with a stab of discomfort. _I __killed __one __of __those __Death __Eaters __attacking __Ron __and __Hermione._

It was all well and good hearing the rational reasons why this wasn't something to be ashamed of from people like Aravenne, Dumbledore, Remus, and even he himself; but no matter how much he understood, and accepted them as being true, he still found the emotions of fear, shame, and guilt welled up in him from time to time.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead in his hands on the table. Of all the things to feel guilty about, this wasn't one of them. And he wasn't even trying to kid himself, there were plenty of things he had done that he shouldn't have a few days ag-… last week. For one thing, had he not gone after the Scrivenings, Voldemort would not currently be holding them. Dumbledore had told him that they-

"Harry?" Ginny's voice asked from in front of him.

Startled, Harry opened his eyes and straightened in his chair. Ginny was standing in front of him in her dressing gown, looking anxious.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine."

It was an automatic response and he rather expected a remark about it, but Ginny didn't immediately respond. In truth, he rather felt like his feelings and thoughts were desperately trying to burst out of him and spiral out of control.

"Couldn't you sleep?" Harry asked.

"Ron woke me." Ginny said in a quiet, hesitant tone.

Harry rose to his feet, chair scraping underneath him. "Did you hear anything?" He asked, panicking slightly.

"Some." Ginny now looked rather ill. "What exactly happened, Harry? You still haven't said, but your memory's obviously come back. Tell me."

"I-" Harry began, but Ginny continued, interrupting him.

"What did Ron do? Please, you have to tell me."

Without realising it, Harry walked to place himself between her and Ron's bed. "I can't - it's not fair on Ron. How can I-"

"Damn it, Harry!" Ginny said tearfully. "It's not fair on _me_ not to let me know. He's my brother! So was Percy! You can't not tell me. Especially after what I just heard. Nothing you say can be worse than what I'll imagine if you don't let me know." She sniffed loudly as she tried to contain her tears. "Please."

Harry found himself looking back to Ron's curtains, and back to her again and again. "It's – How can I-"

"Did they fight?" Ginny cut in. "Did Ron find out that Percy was working for Voldemort and attack him? Or was it Percy? Did he try to kill Ron, and Ron fought back? Or-"

"Ron didn't know it was Percy." Harry said quietly, but Ginny heard him and stopped talking. "He…" Harry trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He sighed as Ginny opened her mouth again. "Percy took us to my parents' house and whatever charm it was around the house really hurt. We couldn't even move. He took the Scrivenings and left us, but we didn't know it was him – he was wearing one of Dumbledore's balaclavas." Harry looked down. "I went after him to get the Scrivenings back while Ron tried to break the charms so we could get away. Percy and I spoke and he tried to run. We cast spells, and Ron cast a spell at him while he was trying to jinx me.

"And he died." Harry said simply. "Ron was protecting me, Percy's back was turned, there was no way Ron could have known it was Percy."

Ginny's ashen face blinked at him, face taut. She stepped forward as though to run to Ron's bed, but Harry caught her arm as she tried to go past. He shook his head firmly.

"You can't. He doesn't want to hear it. Not now. I tried, but… he wouldn't even let me open the curtains, and he charmed the curtains so he couldn't hear me. Besides, the fact that you know… He'll feel that I betrayed him, and that will make it all worse. I have betrayed him," he added bitterly, "but the worst thing you can do right now is to confront him. You can't persuade him he isn't to blame when he's not willing to even try to believe it, and he doesn't want to be comforted. Not yet."

"It would be different with me – you're a guy and his best friend; I'm his sister. Let me go, Harry."

Harry, however, tightened his grip. He shook his head vigorously. "Trust me on this. It wouldn't help. He's scared of- Look, there's a reason Pomfrey wouldn't allow anyone to see him earlier. He went through a lot – both with the thing with Hermione, and then when Voldemo-"

Ginny stopped trying to pull away from him. "What thing with Hermione?" She asked fearfully.

Harry paused, loosening his grip as Ginny stopped struggling, and looking at her warily. "What did she tell you about when we found the Scrivenings?"

"Virtually nothing," Ginny replied, "she's hardly talked for this past week, and when she has it's always been to do with you two getting better. What happened?"

"And she never stopped having a go at me for not talking last summer!" Harry exclaimed, more angrily than he had intended.

"What happened, Harry? And let go, I won't go to Ron – at least until we've talked – alright?"

As Harry released his grip Ginny put a hand up to rub the arm he'd held on to. She looked at Ron's bed fretfully for a long moment, before blinking and forcing herself to look away. She took a few steps backwards, and sat the other side of the table. Harry retook his seat.

"It's… complicated."

"And?" When Harry showed no signs of answering, she continued. "Look, Harry, I thought she was just worried about everyone, and that's why she didn't want to talk. If something happened to her too-"

"Like I said, it's complicated. Look, can't you just ask her straight out? If she doesn't want to say anything then maybe I- Look, this isn't fair on her, can't you at least give her the chance to… It's like with Ron, I don't want to betray her. It's bad enough I did that to Ron. I know what that feels like, and I doubt it will help them, especially if they'll tell you themselves given the chance. The worst thing for them would be to feel that they are on their own."

Harry had turned his eyes away from Ginny as he spoke, but jerked his face back to hers as he heard her intake of breath. She sat there stunned, with a look of utmost horror on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the first two times no sound came out, so she coughed to clear her throat. Harry half expected her to look across to Ron's bed again, but she couldn't take her frightened eyes from him.

"Is that what you thought I did when I told Ron and Hermione about what happened with us at Snape's trial?" She asked in a trembling tone. "That I _betrayed_ you? That you were on your own? That we- that _I_ had turned on you?"

Harry looked away, silently cursing his lack of an internal censor. By the time he had considered denying it the silence had answered the question.

"I did at the time..." He eventually said reluctantly. "Whether I do now… Look, in a weird way that might have helped – I mean, I got so angry I couldn't hide things like the Prophecy any more."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know you didn't. I know _now_." Harry still wasn't able to meet her eyes. "Like I said, maybe it was a good thing. I just… don't think it would be good for either of them at the moment."

"I was just worried about you." Ginny told him, her voice still shaking, and she reached up to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief. "I wanted to help, and that was the only way I felt I could."

"I know. Really, Ginny, I know. I understand – it's okay. Seriously." He met her eyes finally. "You don't have to apologise."

Ginny turned away, blowing her nose. "You mustn't think you betrayed Ron," she said, voice muffled slightly, "he was the one that woke me up, and told me when he shouted. All you did by telling me was stop me pulling back the curtains and demanding he told me what happened."

"He saved my life, Ginny." Harry said suddenly.

"You mean from Percy?" Ginny asked tentatively after a slight pause, her face by now drained of all colour apart from the redness around her eyes. "Or by letting the Order know where you were?"

Harry shook his head. "No, well, he did, but I actually meant he saved me from Voldemort. Voldemort sent me flying, and I lost my wand, and he had me pretty much at his mercy – there was nothing I could do. Ron attacked him, and I managed to get away to cover. And Voldemort…" Harry closed his eyes and shuddered. "Voldemort nearly destroyed him. He put him under the Cruciatus curse, and then threatened him;" he suddenly found himself smiling in admiration, "and the crazy ba- your brother - basically grinned, and told Voldemort it was fine 'cos he'd saved me!"

"The Cruciatus curse?" Ginny asked, aghast.

The smile was wiped from Harry's face. "Yes. For a long time. That's why he needs time."

Ginny swallowed, and looked away. "What do you think I can do to help when he's…?"

Harry turned his head to look at Ron's shielded bed. "I don't know – just… don't let him think that… Show him that even though Percy died like that that-"

"That his family still love him?" Ginny finished for him.

"Yeah." Harry said, nodding, and hesitated. "He's scared of even seeing you again."

Ginny's eyes narrowed in concern and sighed. "Oh, Ron."

"If you can show him the patience and understanding you showed me last summer he'll be fine. I don't know how you guys put up with me!"

Harry said it with a smile, but Ginny jerked her head to frown at him. "Don't be silly, you could be irritating sometimes, but it's not as if you were unbearable to be around. We _wanted_ to be there."

She paused, taking a couple of long but shaky breaths, and looked at him closely. "How do you do it? _Why_ do you do it?"

"Do… what?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"Since you first woke up, you've pretty much just asked about other people, and worried about Ron, me, and now Hermione. You went through more than me; almost certainly more than Hermione; and probably more than Ron too; and yet you've not said anything about it, and go around pretending you aren't in pain. You're _human_, Harry, there'd be something wrong with you if you weren't hurt, or weren't finding all this hard yourself."

Harry fidgeted slightly. "It's how I deal with things. Growing up with the Dursleys like I did, you learn pretty quickly not to complain. I guess worrying about other people means I don't have time to worry about myself. Anyway, don't you think it's kind of ironic that you're saying that to me?"

"Harry," Ginny replied in a soft voice, which somehow held a hint of challenge, "when I haven't been worrying about you, Ron, or P- Percy, I've been replaying the moment I hit that Death Eater with the scything curse over and over. I killed someone who used the Imperius curse on me, and tried to use me to kill you, and yet I feel awful about it." She stopped, and then sighed. "Maybe it's just me being stupid, _you_ don't-"

"You know when you found me here I was holding my head?" Harry interrupted quietly.

She nodded, frowning.

"I was remembering… When I fought Bellatrix Lestrange she asked me how many people I had killed. I'd killed four. Then I killed another, making it five. It makes me feel sick, even though I know I did the right thing. It's easier when it's in a fight, but the last one I killed, I just cast a spell at when they weren't looking. And I hate the feeling I get when I think about it.

"The thing is, Lestrange boasted about losing count of the people she killed. In a weird way, I'm relieved I feel like this, because it means I'm not like her." He gave a breathy hiss of amusement. "It's ridiculous – I hate feeling like this, but I'm terrified of not feeling this way.

"I don't think you should worry about feeling like that – just remember that it was also the right thing to do. You did nothing wrong. Doing what you did saved my life – yours too."

She hesitated, looking troubled. "If I don't get used to it, then I'll freeze again whenever… if it happens again. I should've died because I couldn't move."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think you have to get used to it, you just have to accept it happened so you can keep going. It's the shock of it happening that's the hard part. If you can accept that it's a part of you, rather than fighting against it, it's easier to deal with." He breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm helping much."

"You are." Ginny assured him. After a brief pause, she continued, prompting him: "How do you deal with it?"

Harry blinked. "Me? I'm not sure." He furrowed his eyes and thought about it. "I think I kind of just react to whatever's happening around me. I… kind of work on instinct – and worry about it later."

Ginny looked away, and Harry could see the unspoken wish that that was how she had reacted.

"But that's not always a good thing. I think that's one of the reasons I'm doing all this unintentional magic. I…" He hesitated.

"What?" Ginny asked gently.

"I…" He started again, and looked away. "After you Portkeyed away, we ran into Pettigrew, and I cast…"

To his irritation, he couldn't make himself say the words. He glanced upwards in his annoyance, and cursed himself quietly. When he opened his mouth to speak again, he forced the five words out of him in a rush.

"I tried to kill him. But I didn't even realise what I was doing. I just…"

He trailed off again, and when Ginny stayed silent he chanced a glance back towards her. She was sitting with a concerned look, but there was no judgement there. It gave him the strength to continue. Hermione or Ron would tell her eventually, anyway.

"I tried to – I did – cast the Avada Kedavra curse. By the time I realised what I was doing and tried to stop myself it was too late." He stomach felt leaden, and he could feel his fears trying to tumble out of him. "It didn't hit him – he escaped. Luckily. I don't think Hermione could bear to look at me after that. I mean, think what that made me! Can't blame her."

"You're still the same you." Ginny assured him. "Think what you were just saying to me about being worried about not feeling like that. Besides, you said you tried to stop yourself. You can't be held accountable for something you tried to stop yourself doing."

Harry looked at her doubtfully. "It was an Unforgivable, Ginny – it was _the_ Unforgivable."

Ginny's eyes suddenly clouded over, and her voice choked slightly, revealing just how hard she was trying to disguise her emotions. "If I hadn't managed to escape the Imperius curse, and cast… that spell at you… Would it have been my fault?"

Harry shook his head slowly, full of emotions that robbed his voice. He virtually mouthed the word 'no'.

Ginny raised her handkerchief to her eyes once more, and Harry saw her swallow a couple of times. "Would you…" She began, hesitating, "Would you tell me what happened after the Pulmelido curse hit me and then after I took Hermione's Portkey. You don't have to say anything you don't want about Hermione or Ron!" She added, rushing the words together before Harry could say anything. "It's just…" She paused again for a moment. "Would you?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

When Harry lay back down on the hospital bed, he felt emotionally and mentally exhausted. He didn't even have the strength left to ruminate upon his worries.

As he closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow, a voice sounded from beside him: it was almost frighteningly devoid of emotion.

"Harry," Ron said, "I swear I'm going to be there when you kill Voldemort. I'm going to watch him die."

Harry heard Ron turn over in his bed as he finished speaking. His eyes snapped open once more.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"Now Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, "when you are ready to return to the Hospital Wing, use the Floo to tell me, and I will either send someone down to help you, or come down myself. Is that understood?"

Harry hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly as he leant on a crutch just outside Aravenne's room. He hadn't wanted the crutch, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have allowed him to come down without it – she hadn't even allowed him to come down without her escort. Unfortunately, he had to admit that it was probably a good thing he had it. It hadn't taken long before his weak muscles had started to complain, and had he had to walk even further then he might have even swallowed his pride and asked Madam Pomfrey if he could rest for a moment.

"Yeah, I will."

"Good." She studied him closely as she replied, as though wondering if he would disobey her like he had in the Quidditch match at Hallowe'en. "You have an hour – Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you once you finish here."

Harry nodded, he already knew that: Dumbledore had been almost constantly out of the castle, trying to limit the damage that had been done, and reinforce a Ministry that was struggling to function. More deaths to personnel, and the loss of Azkaban itself to Voldemort had sapped almost all the public's confidence and the very real fear was that Dumbledore and Scrimgeour were fighting an unwinnable battle. Now that Harry was awake and compos mentis, Dumbledore would need to get whatever else Harry could tell him that the memory Snape had taken couldn't.

"Very well, go on then."

Madam Pomfrey continued to stand there, as though she was going to make certain he actually went into the room, rather than trying to sneak off and do something foolish. He sighed, and hobbled forward to knock on the door a little tentatively. He was pretty much certain he was in no danger, but he didn't know what to expect.

"Come in!" Aravenne's voice seemed strong enough.

At his side, Madam Pomfrey nodded, and turned to walk away. Harry put his palm on the handle, and opened the door. Using the crutch, he walked in rather stiffly, studying the man sitting in the bed as he did so. Apart from a bandage around Aravenne's right forearm, he wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with him. A faintly luminous yellow glow seemed to come from the bed, but Harry had no idea what it was there to do. Aravenne's eyes seemed to light up as he saw him.

"Ah, Harry! Come in, have a seat! You don't seem to have emerged unscathed from this either, I see."

Leaning his crutch against the wall, Harry closed the door, and then walked slowly, but gratefully, to a chair opposite Aravenne. As he sat, his right hand strayed naturally to his front pocket, where his wand was stowed. He hesitated slightly before responding.

"Regulus… Black?"

The smile was wiped from Aravenne's face, and he blinked for a long moment. With a grimace, he sighed, and looked away towards one of the corners of the ceiling.

"I suppose that answers that."

When he didn't say anything more, Harry spoke again. "So, you are Regulus Black then? Sirius' brother?"

Aravenne gave a small sound of disgust and turned his face back towards him. "I suspect pretending otherwise would not be particularly persuasive." He shook his head. "Yes, I was once Regulus Black."

He was silent again for a while, but this time Harry said nothing, only his eyes demanding more information. If Aravenne noticed Harry surreptitiously withdrawing his wand, he gave no reaction.

"I confess, Harry, that I had been intending to try to discover if you had heard my conversation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during the course of this meeting. At least you have saved the two of us that rigmarole, I suppose." He stopped, and narrowed his eyes. "And yet you look doubtful." He snorted softly in what seemed some sort of dark amusement.

"Regulus Black was a Death Eater," Harry quietly pointed out, wand held casually in his lap now, "you don't have the Dark Mark – I checked."

Aravenne grimaced again. "You know that Regulus was a Death Eater then?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You're right; Regulus _was_ given the Dark Mark. But he was left handed. The mark is put on the non-wand arm of the Dark Lord's followers, Harry, not the left arm."

Harry stared at him, and then groaned in disgust. "I… am an idiot."

"I'm not sure how you even know about the Mark," Aravenne replied, raising his eyebrows, "but there's no reason you should have known without having come across a left handed Death Eater. However, I'm not sure that asking me to roll up my sleeve like that was the wisest thing to do."

"It just kind of slipped out." Harry admitted sheepishly.

Aravenne made no immediate response, but then eventually gave a slightly amused sound. "I have to admit, I'm a little surprised that you weren't accompanied here by a couple of Aurors – or at the very least the Headmaster. It would certainly seem that the end is nigh, as it were, after all."

"The end is nigh?" Harry repeated warily, raising his wand without thinking.

Aravenne stared at it for a moment, before waving a hand dismissively. "You needn't worry about me attacking you Harry. Regulus Black might possibly have – I have no intention of it. Besides, in my current state, casting a spell would almost certainly kill me."

Harry didn't lower his wand, but his brow did crease slightly in enquiry and he cocked his head.

With a wince, Aravenne continued. "When the Dark Lord ordered his Death Eaters to take me with them, they decided that arguably the best way to stop me escaping was to take away my legs." He gestured towards the bed. "Madam Pomfrey is attempting to reattach my right leg below the knee. If I were to use magic, her spells would very likely disintegrate and I would probably quickly bleed to death."

He chuckled bitterly as the colour drained from Harry's face. "Besides, even with two legs I wouldn't fancy being chased by both the Dark Lord, and Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry. I don't think I'd stand much chance with one. No; I shall have to face the punishment for Regulus' sins. At least the Kiss seems unlikely now."

"You think you're going to be arrested?"

"Think?" Aravenne asked in surprise. "I'm amazed you were happy to come here on your own. Hell, I'm astounded you were _allowed _to come here without a bodyguard."

"You saved my life not so long ago when you killed Lestrange." Harry pointed out as he lowered his wand. "Along with everything else, I'm pretty sure you aren't planning to harm me. As for being allowed… I haven't told Dumbledore yet." Harry continued cautiously, fingering his wand, causing Aravenne to stare at it for a long time, looking conflicted. With a start, Harry rushed his next words as he considered what Aravenne might be thinking. "But I have told someone else – I'm not the only one who knows."

Aravenne's eyes jerked up to meet his. "You don't have to worry, Harry – as I said, I'm not going to do anything. I was just thinking… Is there any chance you can keep this quiet?"

Harry shook his head. "Not now Voldemort knows. Once his Death Eaters know, then Professor Dumbledore will too. Besides, I'm guessing that you're here rather than St Mungo's for a reason – you think Voldemort wants to kill you really badly – and the best way of staying safe from him is to let Dumbledore know and ask for his help."

Aravenne gave a mirthless laugh at that suggestion. "Harry, Death Eaters deserve death. There's not a single Death Eater – alive or dead – that hasn't cast at least one Unforgivable on a human being. Regulus was no different. As soon as the slightest suggestion that I have links to the Dark Lord comes out, you can forget about arrested – I'll be killed."

"Professor Snape has the Dark Mark on his arm and Professor Dumbledore trusts him." Harry pointed out. "He gives people second chances, even Death Eaters."

Aravenne cocked his head slightly. "That explains how you know about the Dark Mark. Not many do." He sighed. "Harry, Severus clearly had something to offer in return – I don't. Or at least, nothing that is particularly persuasive."

"Surely it's better to go to him and tell him yourself then wait for him to find out, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Is that a threat?" Aravenne asked mildly, as if he was struggling to find some humour in it. "The time has long gone for that, even if it were the best thing I could have done. As you have shown, the cat's out of the bag now. Besides, I don't think you fully understand just what being a Death Eater involves, Harry – these-"

"Oh, trust me, I know!" Harry interrupted strongly. "And if Dumbledore can forgive Snape, he can forgive you a hundred times over."

Aravenne frowned. "Death Eaters can't be forgiven Harry. They've done too much for that. The best thing to hope for is to be useful enough that disposing of you is a waste."

"I don't think you understand Dumbledore." Harry said simply.

Aravenne's brow narrowed in either displeasure or thought – Harry couldn't tell which – but he stayed silent.

"Despite what you say, you still seem to think you've a better chance here than St Mungo's." As Harry pointed that fact out, Aravenne's eyes rose in ironic humour.

"The best of a poor hand, I'm afraid. It was almost certainly just a matter of time until my past was found out, even if you hadn't heard what you had, but this prolonged my hopes of escape."

Harry's eyes drifted to the bandage on Aravenne's right arm. Aravenne noticed, and leant back as though anticipating the question.

"If you have the Dark Mark, surely Madam Pomfrey would have noticed. How are you hiding it?" Harry asked slowly.

Aravenne paused before replying. "I don't exactly have the D-" He sighed. "I needed to get rid of it when trying to avoid the Death Eaters the Dark Lord sent after I left his service."

Reaching across with his left hand, he removed the couple of pins which held the bandage in place, and unwound it. Harry drew back slightly in automatic distaste: there was no skin there. Instead, a transparent surface covered that part of the arm, allowing the muscles and veins within to be seen.

Aravenne cracked a slight, perverse smile at Harry's reaction. "Not the nicest, is it? It hasn't got rid of the Dark Mark entirely, but it does block most of its effects. I've managed to divert Poppy's questions about it so far – better than I expected, actually – but I suspect that the cover story of an accident with an experimental charm will crumble as soon as she – or any other Healer – takes a closer look."

"I'd have thought that would help you show Dumbledore you weren't helping Voldemort," Harry pointed out, "getting rid of the Dark Mark, I mean."

"Possibly. To be honest, however, if I were planning to spy for the Dark Lord the first thing I'd want to do would be hide the Dark Mark." Aravenne paused. "Granted, I doubt he would let any of his servants do it… And I haven't removed it. I had help, and we could only block it."

There was a brief lull in the conversation, before Harry burst out with the question that had been bothering him. Or at least one of them. "Why did you come back? You must have had a pretty comfortable life in America, and yet you came here where Voldemort is killing people, and you don't even think Dumbledore will help you."

Aravenne stared at him without saying a word for a long time. Finally, he sighed. "Did Sirius say anything about his brother, Regulus?"

"He said…" Harry began, "he said you were a Death Eater. That you joined up without really knowing what was involved, and got in deep before having second thoughts. He said Voldemort had you killed when you tried to back out. I don't think he thought you wanted to be a Death Eater, you just got sort of sucked into it."

Harry could have sworn that Aravenne flinched slightly as he spoke, but why he wasn't sure. _Was __it __shame?_

Aravenne's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, before he shook his head in resignation. "Sirius gave Regulus more credit than he deserved. I would have expected him to…" He didn't finish his sentence. "Unfortunately, Regulus was well aware of what it all involved when he joined the Death Eaters. He didn't get sucked into it, he… Harry, what _kind_ of person did Sirius say his brother was?"

"He- ah-" Harry began awkwardly, causing Aravenne to smile crookedly.

"I would imagine he called Regulus weak-willed, weak magically, certainly a coward, spoilt, selfish… probably irritating too."

"I, er, don't think he said Regul- _you_ were weak magically." Harry offered.

With another slight twitch, Aravenne continued grimly. "He may as well have. At least, in comparison to _Sirius_, Regulus was weak magically. Apart from charms – he was always good at charms. Anyway, the rest of it was pretty much spot on. Regulus basically joined the Death Eaters because he had no backbone; no backbone, and he saw it as a way to earn praise from his parents and admirers from his fellow Slytherins."

Loathing filled his voice as he continued. "He spent his life growing up trying to do what his parents wanted him to do, trying to believe what they wanted him to believe, to be their perfect son. He saw the way they treated Sirius as he grew up and was too much of a coward to brave it himself, even if there were times he wished he could. He was the same with friends: the ultimate sycophant. So before he was even of age, he joined the Death Eaters – along with another boy in his house – and cast his first Unforgivables. Oh, Regulus knew exactly what he was getting into, Harry, he just didn't realise that he wouldn't be able to face doing it."

As Harry opened his mouth, Aravenne raised his hand pre-emptively, "Don't worry, I'll get to it. Essentially, anything Sirius told you about the person Regulus was was probably pretty close to the mark. But even as a child, there were times Regulus hated himself for it. He'd watch Sirius get into yet another blazing row with their parents, and secretly wish he could behave like that." He shook his head with a sound of quiet disgust. "Even when Regulus was the one getting Sirius in trouble in order to suck up to his parents he was jealous of him. Sometimes he idolised Sirius, more often he envied him, but I doubt there was a time he didn't wish he was like Sirius; wished he had Sirius' strength of will, his independence, wished he was as good at, well, pretty much anything, to be honest.

"Ironically, it took joining the Death Eaters for him to do anything approaching something that might have made Sirius proud." Aravenne looked sardonically amused. "And even that was more because of wanting to be like Sirius than any strength on Regulus' part. I think he would always have discovered he wanted out, but without Sirius he wouldn't have even contemplated leaving, let alone going ahead and doing it, and even avoiding being killed. There were many times Regulus wanted to give up, but knowing Sirius wouldn't, kept him going."

Harry was fascinated by Aravenne's expressions and tone of voice as he talked. It was as if Regulus were a completely separate person to Aravenne, and one that Aravenne had utterly no respect for. He was starting to wonder if Aravenne's earlier discomfort had been because Harry was treating them as one and the same person: which of course they were.

With a tone of near disbelief, Aravenne continued. "So, after travelling all over the world, fleeing Death Eaters that always seemed to know where he was, working out that it had something to do with the Dark Mark, and then trying to figure out a way to remove it; Regulus found a wizard who was both willing and able to at least partially help him," Regulus' hand unconsciously covered the gruesome looking patch on his arm, "faked his own death, and kept running until he ended up in America. There he changed his name a few times – legally, so that Regulus Black couldn't even be traced by arcane means – and eventually ended up being called Syde Aravenne.

"And almost the first thing I learnt after my 'birth' was that the Sirius I thought I knew was a complete lie. Sirius Black – the man I had come to idolise – had betrayed his best friends, their son, and was secretly the Dark Lord's number two." He shook his head ruefully. "It would probably have killed Regulus. I, however, survived; although I did cut myself off from everyone and everything until more practical considerations forced me out of my cocoon. Even for a wizard, a hermitic existence is not particularly comfortable.

"I think it's fair to say that the rebuilding of my life has far out done my wildest dreams. I fell into a profession that suited me quite by accident – by filling in for an incapacitated Charms professor – and another fortunate twist of fate saw me take over the Defence against the Dark Arts curriculum a few years later." He sighed. "And then last year, I began to hear rumours that Sirius Black had been framed, and wrongly convicted. Soon after, I heard about his death in defence of Harry Potter."

He stopped speaking, and reached for a glass of water beside his bed.

"So you came back to find out if it were true?" Harry asked.

"Partly," Aravenne nodded, once he had taken a long drink, "partly because if the Sirius I had wanted to be had been real… I felt that if he were me, he would be here, rather than hiding away in America. And also…" He chuckled briefly. "I wanted to know if his death had been worth it."

"Me!" Harry exclaimed with a double take. "You wanted to judge me? Is that why you've been giving me wandless magic lessons; so you could assess me?"

"Actually no," Aravenne replied wryly, "I meant what I said as regards that. Besides, my mind had already been made up about you by then."

"And you came back despite thinking both sides would be after you if anyone realised who you were?" Harry asked dubiously. "You weren't afraid of someone you knew at school recognising you?"

"I was;" Aravenne admitted, before continuing with a touch of self censure, "I am arguably still largely the same coward Regulus was. But there was no reason anyone should have recognised me: Regulus was barely of age when he 'died'. Also, sixteen odd years changes a man's appearance – especially the years mine consisted of. I would wager that if you saw a picture of me when I was at Hogwarts you wouldn't recognise me." He hesitated. "I did also have the now long ago relinquished hope that I might be able to come up with something to offer Albus Dumbledore in redemption."

"What?" Harry asked, intrigued. "I thought you said you didn't have anything to offer?"

Aravenne shook his head. "I don't. It wasn't much more than a slightly educated guess; and I would need to get my hands upon a book to make it even slightly compelling. Actually, I'd need to see that book to make sure that I haven't completely made it up. I read it when I was ten, and might be misremembering it." As Harry opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, Aravenne shook his head again. "I am almost certain the book was never published. The only copy is hidden away in my parents' house, in a secret library I don't think even they knew existed. Unfortunately, I suspect the house passed to one of my cousins when my parents died, considering I was 'dead' and Sirius had been disowned; and it has been warded from me. They may even have given it to the Dark Lord to use."

Harry hesitated. "Maybe Dumbledore could help you find it?"

Aravenne shook his head. "Doubtful. The wards guarding it are very powerful – I can't even find where it is. I've been to the area I think it should be, and yet I can't even see it or detect the charms hiding it from me. And the odds of the book actually helping are probably not all that high anyway."

"It's worth telling him." Harry urged, and then looked at him in inquiry. "Why are you so hesitant to do it? I mean, you've pretty much said that you can't hide it – what have you got to lose?"

"Why?" Aravenne asked with a tone of bitterness after a pregnant pause. "I'd have thought it was obvious, Harry. As much as I like to pretend otherwise, I'm still the gutless coward that Regulus used to be. You're probably right – I should. But doing so means I have to own up to all Regulus' crimes, and await punishment when every part of me wants to escape and leave it behind once more."

Harry was silent; eventually he softly observed: "You called Voldemort by his name to his face. I think that shows you aren't all that gutless."

The corner of Aravenne's mouth twisted upwards, and he shook his head. "Like I said, I like to pretend I'm something I'm not. Besides, I had the faint hope that if I angered him enough he might kill me rather than capture and torture me."

"It strikes me that sometimes all bravery is, is pretending you're not afraid." Harry shrugged. "If you were such a coward, I don't think you'd ever have come back."

Aravenne eyed him quietly, but didn't reply.

"So," Harry said as the silence dragged on, "what was it you need that book for, anyway? Maybe you could get the info you need from somewhere else?"

Aravenne shook his head. "I'm not sure if book is the right word to call it – it was a study one of my ancestors made into Dementors. There is very little, if anything, known about them, and in that the way she conducted her research was rather… unethical, to say the least, I don't think her research would have been duplicated anywhere. That's why what she wrote never got published. I've certainly looked, but found nothing elsewhere."

"How would research on Dementors help against Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"I… suspect that he has tried to mimic the way that they stay alive. By rights, Dementors shouldn't be able to live – they don't eat or drink like other living creatures do. My ancestor- Assuming I am remembering this correctly, she thought they used other creatures' souls as a buffer to keep their own on the plane of the living. The book would explain it better. It's an idea that stuck in my head when I read it because it was so grotesque, but because I was so young at the time I can remember virtually nothing else, and probably understood not that much, anyway."

"And you don't think that Dumbledore would find that useful?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It's all theory, Harry, with virtually no evidence to back it up. Without any of that I could just be manufacturing it out of thin air. It has three things going for it, assuming I can find that book and it suggests it might be possible:

"On the night I left the Death Eaters, I was due to be part of a ritual to help him with a charm. This was around one of the Mortuus Porticus, or what we might call the Archways of the Departed." He hesitated at the look on Harry's face and then nodded. "Sirius went through one of them."

"There are more of them?" Harry asked, swallowing.

Aravenne nodded. "And the fact that this charm was to do with one of them makes me think it was something to do with souls – that and some of my memories of the charm itself. That would fit in with the theory.

"Also, the Archway was close to the border of Albania and Macedonia. From what I understand, the Dark Lord existed in Albania whilst without a body?"

Harry nodded.

"Finally, Voldemort has always been fascinated with Dementors. It's not just a passing interest, either, he would walk amongst them, apparently unaffected by them, and study their ways. If anyone was going to find something out about them, it would be him. They're considered too dangerous for anyone else to even want to go near them.

"But all three of them are just incidental. So you can see just how flimsy the hypothesis is, even if I _could_ find that book. And doesn't that book seem just too convenient a coincidence? Why should anyone believe me?"

"Because if you're right it could make the difference between us defeating Voldemort or not," Harry told him, "that's why."

"What you're saying is that I should stop looking for proof, but rather offer what little I have and hope." Aravenne said, flatly. "And the worst of it is I suspect you may be right."

Harry hesitated. "The reason I haven't told Dumbledore is because I haven't seen him since I woke up – I was unconscious until a day or two ago – I'm going to see him in about half an hour."

"And you will tell him what happened, when you do." Aravenne tried to keep his composure. "That would seem to rule out me being the one to confess my past, anyway. I suppose it is just as well – I would likely have lost my nerve. Perhaps you could not inform him of the details of our conversation unless absolutely necessary – just in case it offers me some hope."

Harry hesitated again. "I could ask him to come down here to help me back to the hospital wing," he glanced at the crutch on the wall, "I could say you've said something to me and I think he really needs to hear it himself."

Emotions played themselves out on Aravenne's face. "I suppose I have no choice."

"It will be better than you think. Dumbledore gives second chances to those who deserve it;" Harry offered reassuringly, "Hagrid was expelled for supposedly opening the Chamber of Secrets, you know, and Dumbledore still gave him a second chance."

Aravenne didn't respond. Harry got to his feet gingerly, and limped to the fireplace, lighting it with a cautious spell. Only a tiny flame appeared, no doubt a result of his weak magical energy, and it gradually grew into a small fire. Feeling slightly faint, he took a moment or two to regain his equilibrium, and then took a pinch of Floo powder from an unembroidered box and threw it into the fireplace. With a deep breath, he knelt, and stuck his head into the now green flames.


	40. Demons

**Chapter 40: Demons**

Harry withdrew his head from the flames cautiously, ready for the inevitable nausea that would greet his spinning head. His general frailty at that moment made it worse than usual. Madam Pomfrey had agreed to pass on his message, but at that precise moment in time something else was running through his head.

In the distance behind Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital wing, Harry had seen Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Hermione, and Charlie around Ron's bed. They had looked upset; Mrs Weasley certainly had sounded so. Ginny had been holding tightly onto Ron's hand, and Harry couldn't help but nervously wonder whether Ron had told his family about Percy, or if perhaps Ginny had admitted hearing what he had said last night. Part of him was glad that he hadn't witnessed the confession, but another part was ashamed of that feeling and wished he could have offered some sort of moral support. Of course, Ron might have been _relieved_ not to say it in front of him. He was, after all, as Ginny had said: a guy, and his best friend.

Aravenne's voice behind him reminded him that there seemed too many things vying for his attention for him to work any one out in his head.

"So, the end of my freedom is sealed, then?" He glanced downwards at the charm around his legs and torso on the bed. "If you can call it that."

Harry didn't reply – he was too busy hobbling towards the chair again. As he sat down carefully, he gave a half smile. "Professor Dumbledore had already told Madam Pomfrey he would come down to make sure I made it back up to the Hospital Wing safely, but she said she'd tell him anyway."

Aravenne paused for a moment, but didn't ask the question that looked to be on his lips. Instead he glanced around the room, eyes alighting upon a clock upon his bedside table. "Twenty odd minutes then. Logic would dictate I tried to make them count, but unfortunately there isn't all that much I can do in my current state."

"When did you, or rather Regulus, first want to leave the Death Eaters?" Harry asked curiously; as far as he knew, Aravenne was the only person to ever leave the Death Eaters and survive.

"Probably that very first night: just before he was initiated, and immediately after he had cast the Cruciatus curse on a Muggle. But trying to pull out then would certainly have seen him dead, and time has proven Regulus was good at staying alive. He tried to be a good Death Eater, the same way he tried to be a good son, but he was never particularly successful at it. Actually, the only reason Regulus lived despite numerous errors was probably his parents. Both were very influential among the Dark Lord's target audience, so killing Regulus would have caused him more trouble than Regulus was worth. The more powerful he got, though, the less he had to worry, and when Regulus' father died…

"I'd say that the night Regulus finally decided he couldn't keep being a Death Eater was the same night the Dark Lord probably finally had enough of him." Aravenne shut his eyes briefly and shivered. "Regulus and three others were sent to a Muggle village to shepherd some 'rogue' Dementors around. Our… _Their _instructions were to use Patronuses to direct the Dementors towards the ones that would cause the greatest outcry, disgust, and fear. Children. It was terrorism in the truest sense of the word, Harry. And even then, Regulus tried to follow orders. But in the end he couldn't bring himself to – he faked being overwhelmed by a Dementor which struck back at his Patronus. It meant he didn't take part in those…"

Aravenne's eyes suddenly shone with emotion. "What he did virtually gave himself a death sentence anyway, and yet he made no effort to stop the others, holding onto the extra few hours of life that doing nothing would give him. The coward just faked infirmity, and fled. I told you what Regulus did can never be forgiven Harry."

Harry swallowed. He couldn't think of anything to say. To be honest, he suspected that his own opinion about Regulus wouldn't be all that different from Aravenne's. He tried to empathise with how Regulus might have felt, but he couldn't – his character seemed too alien. And yet he had turned out to be the man sitting in the bed in front of him.

Aravenne didn't seem to notice the emotions running through Harry, and he continued. "Regulus escaped with his life, but only after the Cruciatus curse for his weakness. The next night," he gave a faint sound of amusement, "Regulus must have stood watching Sirius' house for over an hour, trying to decide whether to ask him for help or not."

"But he didn't," Harry supplied, "why not?"

"He was simply too scared. He was paralysed with fear. Too scared to run, let alone even consider fighting – which was the least of what Sirius would have expected from him. Scared of Sirius just closing the door on him – Sirius despised all his family, and they hated him, there was no reason he would have been willing to help Regulus – and scared… scared of what Syde Aravenne is now afraid of – that justice would be served upon him.

"Fear's a strange thing. It can keep you in positions you don't want to be, because you become convinced that the only places you can go from there are even worse. It reconciles you to the circumstances you hate so much, because at least it is in some way familiar. It sounds like it should be easy to force yourself through it. Maybe for some people it is. Regulus, pathetic though he was, tried to do so. He truly tried. But ultimately he was too weak."

Something like pity briefly appeared on Aravenne's face, and he shook his head. It quickly hardened over again as Harry spoke.

"So what did it then? What made him leave? How did he get the courage to do it?"

"Courage? Hardly. The Dark Lord intended to kill him, along with six other incompetents or recalcitrants, in the very charm I mentioned earlier. Some sixth sense warned him, and he escaped by the skin of his teeth. He had no choice. Petrified or not, he finally had to do something. Self-preservation finally won out, and he fled south, to Africa. His knowledge of French was reasonable enough, and that, English, and a combination of spellwork and sign language was enough for him to communicate with other people when he had to."

"And Voldemort sent people after y- him?" Harry asked.

"Of course. He had another narrow escape the first night he stopped for rest. With all his fears running through his head he couldn't sleep and he heard stairs creak outside the door of the room of the Muggle inn he was sleeping in. Finding an anti-apparition ward around it, he broke through it and fled just as they broke through his door." He gave a brief smile. "Yes, Regulus was good with charms.

"He spent the next few days napping for an hour at a time, and then moving on, all the time trying desperately to work out how he was being followed. He threw away his clothing, stealing and transfiguring replacements, exchanged the little money he had had with him when he fled, and threw away his watch. But despite getting rid of everything that he owned, he was still being followed. The only reason he survived were the protective wards he placed at night that warned him when people were approaching, but even then he occasionally had to fight to get away."

Aravenne reached for some more water. Rather than saying anything, Harry sat there quietly, just waiting for him to begin again. Regulus seemed to have been a man of contradictions - from the way Aravenne had described him as a Death Eater, to the way he was being described now, to the very man in front of him, it was hard to imagine they were all the same person.

As Aravenne placed the glass back down on the table and it refilled itself magically, he took a deep breath. Harry guessed he was the first person Aravenne had ever talked to about this. Looked at that way, it was rather an honour – even if he suspected it was only because Aravenne expected the worst when Professor Dumbledore opened the door. Perhaps this was his way of ensuring that his story got told at least once. Aravenne hesitated, however, as though something held him back from continuing.

"And he escaped?" Harry asked eventually – although the answer was obvious – in an effort to get Aravenne to resume speaking.

"Eventually. Regulus came to the conclusion that it had to be the Dark Mark on his arm that was letting him be tracked. Presumably the Dark Lord has some way of tracking his Death Eaters with it, and was informing his pursuers of his rough whereabouts. It makes sense – I am not aware of any Death Eater that has left his service and survived other than Regulus. Even the ones that did not return after his absence seem to have been killed – Igor Karkaroff was the last one to die I think. No matter where they hid, he always found them."

"Why didn't Voldemort himself chase Regulus, then?" Harry asked. "This must have taken up a lot of his time, wouldn't it have been easier for him to just go after him himself?"

Aravenne smiled crookedly. "Perhaps he did at times, and Regulus just moved on without realising – although I doubt it. For the longest time I have just assumed it was simply because Regulus was so unimportant, but the last year or so I've been beginning to wonder if it was because he didn't _want_ Regulus to appear significant. There were meant to have been no survivors from that charm he cast around the Archway of the Departed, Harry. No eyewitnesses to say what he had done. Had he chased after such a low ranking peon as Regulus personally, perhaps he would have signified to his more senior – and more ambitious – followers that Regulus knew something they could make use of for their own ends.

"Anyway, Regulus began darting around as erratically as he could manage – he'd make Portkeys which led to places he passed through, and return to one at night, before taking another somewhere else the next morning, and continuing in a completely different direction. He figured that if he didn't give them much of a pattern to work with, and kept moving large distances, then it would make it harder for them to track him." His face clouded for some reason. "It worked most of the time." He shook his head, as though exorcising a bad memory. "During that time, he was also trying – and failing – to get rid of the Dark Mark. He started looking for rumours of powerful wizards in the area that he could possibly go to for help, but they always came to nothing.

"I honestly am not sure how long he spent in Africa. Days ran into each other, and the only thing that mattered was staying alive. After finding none that would – or could – help him wherever he looked, eventually he returned north, and east, into Asia, still being chased by Death Eaters."

"How long were they chasing him for? I'd have thought they'd have given up after a while or just waited for Regulus to make a mistake."

"I don't know if they were always chasing him or not – I doubt it, I'd guess they would leave him for weeks, maybe a month, and then return with another concerted effort. Constantly chasing him would be a waste of time, and he didn't leave much for them to go on from the point of view of tracking him. Sometimes he saw nothing of them, and then…" He shook his head. "Sometimes he got too confident. But he managed to survive." He was silent for a short time. "I suspect any Death Eater that wanted to flee the Dark Lord could do just what he did – never stop moving around, having virtually no contact with other human beings, and never returning to the people they did speak to. It's not a life worthy of the name, though."

"But if you could show them how you blocked the Dark Mark they'd be okay," Harry pointed out, "I mean, it fooled Voldemort into thinking you'd died."

"Ah, yes, that," Aravenne said ruefully, "I have to confess that trying to replicate that is a feat far beyond my abilities. I'd rather that people didn't try to reverse engineer the charm, either – for obvious reasons. Whilst I had some small part in it, the vast majority of it was cast by a wizard in Japan. Also, it's a charm that takes some getting used to – it powers itself by my own magical energy. What that means, is that until your body gets used to it, you end up feeling rather the way you did after you killed that Dementor. For years my magic was weaker than normal – not massively so, but it was definitely weaker."

Harry hesitated. He could see why Aravenne didn't think it was that appealing a solution then. Presumably it wouldn't be as bad as what he was dealing with right now, but he certainly felt that the weakening of his magic made him vulnerable: a Death Eater trying to escape Voldemort would surely feel the same way. Aravenne had clearly had no choice, but coping afterwards must have been difficult.

"How did you manage?" He asked, curiously.

"Well the first thing I did was to fake my own d-" He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Aravenne straightened visibly in his bed, and froze wordlessly for a moment. As he met Harry's eyes, he grimaced. Before the knock could come again he forced out a reply.

The door opened briskly, and Dumbledore strode in. Lines above his forehead were the only obvious signs of the stress he was under, for his voice as he greeted them was characteristically full of warmth.

"Good morning Syde, Harry!" His face split into a smile as Harry stood to offer him his chair. "Don't be silly, Harry, in your situation you need the chair far more than I do. Besides, I can just do this:"

He waved his wand, and a chair appeared for him to sit on. To Harry's slight surprise it wasn't an armchair, but rather a straight backed chair – albeit replete with comfortable cushioning on both seat and back.

"Good morning, sir." Harry replied with a grin, and sat back down.

There was a noticeable pause before Aravenne spoke. "Good morning Headmaster. Did… Did Madam Pomfrey relay Harry's message that I had something I needed to-"

"She did," Dumbledore replied with a slightly raised eyebrow, as he rescued Aravenne from his rather stumbling sentence, "how can I help you?"

He waited patiently for Aravenne to speak, not rushing him. Harry noticed the glance that took in the unbandaged right arm, but no surprise registered on Dumbledore's face. Perhaps he had already seen it at the station – had Voldemort cut the wrapping away from his arm?

"Harry has been urging me in much of our conversation this morning," Aravenne began, "to throw myself at your mercy."

Dumbledore inclined his head in a gesture of surprise, and then glanced towards Harry. For his part, Harry was rather confused – he had thought the point of Aravenne telling Dumbledore, rather than Harry doing so, had been to allow Aravenne to make it seem like he was doing this off his own bat.

"And, well..." Aravenne shrugged nervously. "He persuaded me. I… was once – what feels a long time ago – Regulus Black. A Death Eater."

At this, Dumbledore studied Aravenne appraisingly, as if for the first time. Aravenne visibly shrank back.

"Regulus." He mused. "There is, perhaps, a resemblance. If true, you have changed, rather."

"I have." Aravenne's voice was resolute, leading Harry to wonder if he was referring to his appearance, or something else.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Obviously, I'd like to ask some questions, just to confirm. I hope that will be satisfactory – naturally if any of my questions verge upon very sensitive subjects, please say so."

Aravenne frowned in what looked like slight confusion. "Of… course."

Dumbledore started by asking questions relating to Regulus Black's time at Hogwarts, before proceeding to enquire about Regulus' experience with the Death Eaters, and – just as Harry had – his period fleeing from Voldemort. The answers were fleshed out considerably by Dumbledore's thoroughness, and only once did Regulus ask that he not be required to answer. To his obvious amazement, Dumbledore did not press him further. The nervousness in his voice started to wane as Dumbledore continued calmly asking questions, and making no judgements.

Eventually, Dumbledore leaned back, steepling his hands in thought below his lip. "And so, it was in Asia Regulus managed to block the Dark Mark's effects."

It had not taken Dumbledore long at all to see that Aravenne tried to disassociate himself with Regulus, and rather than challenging him on it, the Headmaster had been content to go along with him. Harry suspected that had also helped set Aravenne at his ease.

"Yes," Aravenne replied, his voice becoming more hesitant once more, "in Japan. A wizard there helped him."

"I wonder if you could tell me his name?"

"He called himself Ebisu." Aravenne said softly, and stopped abruptly: Dumbledore had spoken the final syllable with him. No-one said a word for a few moments. Eventually, Aravenne spoke. "How could you know?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "When I examined you at King's Cross station, I naturally examined your arm too, in case it were an injury inflicted upon you by Lord Voldemort. Something about the charmwork preyed on my mind – I thought I recognised its weaver. As you spoke his name, I realised who it was.

"I presume that immediately after the charm, Regulus then made his way to America?"

Aravenne smiled slightly. "He…" He hesitated, and then corrected himself, as if it was then that his change in personas had occurred. "_I_ faked my own death in front of them first, just to make certain they thought I was dead. Ebisu's charms had stopped them locating where exactly I was, but they still knew my general location, and we could see where they were hunting for me. My magic was weak, so it was Ebisu who cast the illusion, but we made sure they saw me being first roasted, and then gobbled up by a dragon. It was an eerie experience, watching myself die.

"After a month's recovery time, I moved to America, yes. It seemed the best idea to me – the language is essentially the same, the culture quite similar, and I'd be able to blend in reasonably easily, especially if I worked to lose as much as I could of my accent. So I changed my name, and performed as many other safeguards as I could think of. I found a rather shady witch who was willing to do the necessary forgeries and charms to turn me into a citizen, and then led a reasonably normal life." He shook his head wryly. "Syde Aravenne's life has been quite boring."

"I suspect most people's lives would appear that way in comparison," Dumbledore observed, "but from what I understand, even if it were boring, it was certainly not wasted, at least. There are many more questions I should like to ask, but I confess that time at the moment is rather short, and there are many things I must accomplish today. For now you shall be safe here, and perhaps in the next couple of days we can discuss the best way to keep that the state of affairs. I hope you will not think me rude if I bring our meeting to a close."

Aravenne just stared at Dumbledore. As though suddenly realising his mouth was open, he closed it in a rush. He frowned, blinking, as though not understanding what Dumbledore had just said.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as though in enquiry, and Harry found himself grinning.

"I think Professor Aravenne thought you would arrest him, sir."

Dumbledore turned his head to look at him, and Harry thought he spotted a twinkle in his eye, as though he had been well aware.

"The things Regulus did as a Death Eater…" Aravenne croaked eventually.

"Were terrible things indeed." Dumbledore completed in a serious tone. "There is no disputing that fact. Nor is there any disputing the fact that you turned away from those terrible things of your own free will, and took the courageous step of defying Lord Voldemort and his followers by leaving the Death Eaters." There was slight emphasis on the 'you' as Dumbledore spoke, as if he was urging Aravenne to take ownership of the things he described.

Aravenne shook his head slightly in disagreement. "It was self preservation, not courage."

"I think not." Dumbledore replied calmly. "Simple self preservation would have been to follow Voldemort's orders. You may see it as Regulus being too weak to stomach doing these acts that Voldemort commanded be done, but I see it as you having too powerful a sense of what was right and wrong to have it denied. You may think Regulus was weak, and a failure for 'only' refusing to continue rather than to immediately fight against those who did; I see you as having taken the first steps to facing your fears, and becoming a person you could be proud of. These things took tremendous courage."

Aravenne's brow furrowed in disagreement, and he shook his head. "But even so, how can you trust me just like that. All you have is my word."

Dumbledore smiled. "That is not all I have. I have your actions – both those I have seen for myself this past year, and those you made in America. I have my own assessment of your character, plus the assessments of those I trust. Finally I have confirmation of your story, in a man I know and trust. Ebisu does not trust easily. In order to gain his assistance, you must have proven yourself an honourable man."

Aravenne paused. "I saved two children from a pair of dragons – Chinese Fireballs – who were hunting." He shook his head. "It was virtually by accident to be honest, although I had been searching for Ebisu after being told he could help me."

"How do you save two kids from dragons by _accident_?" Harry interrupted, amused.

Aravenne grinned ruefully, as though accepting the criticism. "The accident was actually finding them there. Sheer bad luck, or else, perhaps, some slackness on my part meant I was fleeing Death Eaters who'd caught up to me at the time. I'd seen the dragons from distance, and hoped to use them as a diversion. It was only as I got close that I saw what – or rather who – they were hunting." He shook his head in reminiscence. "Trying to keep two children safe when neither they nor you know each other's language is an interesting experience."

"These children were Ebisu's students?" Dumbledore asked.

"I… don't know." Aravenne replied slowly. "I only saw them one other time. He referred to them as his children, but I don't think he meant it literally. Whether they were or not, they helped him trust me. Although he asked me to do other things before he was willing to help me, they seemed almost more ritualistic than anything."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "As I mentioned, Ebisu does not trust easily. He certainly has his reasons – some call him lucky, but he would disagree." He shook his head, as though rousing from memories. "Regardless, as I mentioned, the fact he trusted you is a commendation."

Sensing that Dumbledore was about to repeat his request to withdraw, Aravenne's next sentence came out in a rush.

"Before you go, there's something else." He glanced at Harry.

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's mainly surmise, but…"

Dumbledore listened quietly as Aravenne told him what he had told Harry earlier. Harry could see him becoming more and more attentive as he spoke, particularly as the Dementors were mentioned, for some reason. When Aravenne had finished, looking rather self conscious, as though he felt he had tried to pass off a myth as fact, Dumbledore said nothing, but rather looked thoughtful. At length, he spoke.

"Have you ever heard of something called a Pensieve?"

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

The three of them followed Regulus and a very sorry looking group of Muggles dressed in ragged clothing through underground passages that looked like they hadn't seen travellers in centuries – if not longer. The memory was blurry and indistinct in many places - even the magic behind the storing of memories could not make up for the age of the memory. Aravenne would obviously have tried to exorcise it from his mind, Harry thought, so it was unsurprising that the faces of the Muggles looked hazy, or that the walls looked too smooth, despite debris littering the floor. The sounds were largely inaudible too, which had been rather disconcerting at first.

"There were seven groups in total," Aravenne said as they walked, "seven Death Eaters, and seven groups of seven Muggles, all homeless people that wouldn't be missed. The Dark Lord wanted this kept quiet."

"One of the so-called magical numbers:" Dumbledore observed, "seven. Many of our greater scholars have called them the superstitious relics of a bygone age; clearly Lord Voldemort disagrees."

"He always seemed to be hunting out old stories in a hope to find powerful magic everyone else had forgotten. He'd try them out, and sometimes they'd work, sometimes they wouldn't." Aravenne hesitated. "Maybe he was just trying to give himself the best chance of success."

In front of them, Regulus Black was looking remarkably ill at ease, and he brandished his wand as one of the Muggles tried to turn around. The woman cringed, and resumed walking. Regulus turned to look right through the three of them, craning his neck as though to catch someone who might be hiding, watching him. As far as Harry could tell, no-one was behind them, although the sounds of a scream came from the distance.

They walked in silence for a while, both Aravenne and the memory of Regulus looking progressively more uncomfortable. By the time they reached their destination – a large room with an Archway in the centre which was identical to the one in the Ministry in all respects but the colour of its curtain – Regulus was jumping at shadows. Aravenne was simply white and tight lipped. Four similar groups were spaced out around the dais in a semi-circle.

"You're there, Black!" A gruff voice called out from one of the groups.

Regulus turned rather cautiously to the man who left his group of Muggles and walked up to them, pointing to a spot directly in front of them. Bearded, well built, and scowling, he was rather an imposing figure.

"Alexander Bridcutt." Aravenne's voice was low, not much more than a murmur. "His brother – Graeme – is over there, in the scarlet robe. Troublemakers – or at least that is how the Dark Lord viewed them, I'm sure. Alex, here, showed signs of rebellion when Graeme was being punished a few weeks before this took place. The Death Eaters were surprised that the two of them lived, even if the torture they suffered was considerable. Alyssa, over there," he pointed at a dark haired witch, "had failed in her attempts to subvert a highly ranked Ministry official, which ruined some plans that had been in progress for a while. I don't even know who the other one was. She must – like Regulus – have done something that meant he wanted her dead."

Regulus and Bridcutt had ended their conversation, and Regulus forced the Muggles with him forward to the area directly between the Archway and the passageway they had come through. Once they were in place, charms suddenly blazed into life, a barrier of light surrounding them. The Muggles exclaimed, and one of them pressed against the barrier only to be thrown backwards by the charms. A harsh word from Regulus silenced them.

At the entrance to the cave they stood in came another group, and Aravenne spoke again. "That was Octavia – I don't know her surname. That she was killed was a bit of a surprise. She'd only recently joined, but she'd yet to make a mistake that I knew of. She must have done something to annoy him."

"Octavia Simmons," Dumbledore began, "had a meeting with the Minister for Magic just a few days before you said this took place, offering to supply the Ministry with information as to Voldemort's plans. By the time they had informed me of it, she had gone missing, presumed dead."

Aravenne nodded. "That just leaves Sylvester Parkinson. I suspect that the Dark Lord was just waiting for an excuse with him – like Regulus he was rather incompetent. Unlike Regulus he wasn't possessed of parents he feared offending. It was a miracle he'd lasted as long as he had to be honest.

"So there were five people including himself that Regulus knew the Dark Lord didn't want around. That's one of the reasons why he's scared out of his wits." He nodded towards his former self.

It was not long until the final Death Eater, and Voldemort himself, joined the others. Voldemort didn't waste any time talking about what was to come, he just walked to the dais, and ordered his followers into the positions he wanted them, telling them not to move. That done, he faced the Archway, and began to cast spells. At once silence descended, and the other Death Eaters began to look nervous too. Regulus stared at Voldemort's back for a long moment, and Harry could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He glanced around at the others, studying them all – particularly the ones Aravenne had named as being troublemakers, and Harry could almost see the decision being made in his eyes.

"How accurate do you think your memories of Voldemort's spellwork are?" Dumbledore enquired to Aravenne.

He shook his head. "I don't really know. When I relived these memories I relived them as nightmares, which means they probably got exaggerated. If I had to guess I'd say that the earlier in the memory it is, the closer it is to reality."

They stood, Dumbledore content to watch, and Aravenne clearly forcing himself to observe. As Harry watched, the other groups of people seemed to fade somewhat, so that the only ones that seemed real in the memory were Regulus, the Muggles he was standing guard over, and Voldemort himself.

Almost imperceptibly, Regulus shuffled an inch or so backwards. There was no reaction from those around him, although he had hunched his shoulders slightly as though in expectation. A moment later, he took a whole pace, eyes still fixed upon Voldemort. That pace was followed by another, and a third, until he walked backwards quicker and quicker – it seemed unnoticed. As he entered the passageway that led to freedom he paused again, as if undecided. He stared at the scene in front of him, breathing heavily and looking rather like a frightened animal – too scared to run.

As he watched, the cave began to shudder, rumbling with the energy of whatever the spell was that Voldemort was attempting to cast. A bright silvery light lit up the cave, and Harry watched in horror as – starting with the right hand side of the dais - the Death Eater, and then the Muggles in front of her, arched their backs, seemingly hovering in mid-air, and a silvery, hazy substance slowly left their mouths, floating towards the Archway Voldemort was facing. The next group of eight people started to float, and Harry could see the terror on the faces of all – Muggles and Death Eaters alike – as they saw what was happening, and discovered that they couldn't move.

As the essence left the mouths of the Muggles that Regulus had brought to the cave, Voldemort suddenly swivelled in rage, staring at Regulus with naked hate and anger.

Regulus turned and fled.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Dumbledore closed the door behind them gently. He turned to the side, inviting Harry to follow him. Harry did so, putting his weight on the crutch, and hoping he would not have to ask for a rest as they made their way through the castle. Dumbledore did not speak initially, and Harry wasn't sure how he should start the conversation, so they walked the first fifty yards in silence.

"So," Harry began eventually, "you do trust him, then, sir?"

Dumbledore glanced towards him, but continued his slow walk as he answered. "To a point: that he once was Regulus Black seems to be indisputable, and there are many things that point towards the story he related being largely the truth. His forearm vouches that he left Tom's service." Dumbledore paused, before observing: "you clearly trust him, Harry."

"Um – I guess."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry's slight uncertainty. "No, what concerns I do have about him revolve around the lengths he might go to, rather than which side he might assign his loyalties to. I suspect, for example, that aiding you was not the sole reason he interrupted your duel with Bellatrix Lestrange on King's Cross station."

Harry hesitated before replying. Syde Aravenne had been the one to use the Avada Kedavra curse upon Rabastan Lestrange in Hogsmeade. Of course, Harry had hardly been innocent himself when it came to casting that spell. He'd hit Voldemort with it in Ollivander's House, and cast it – at humans – twice recently, even if he'd missed.

"Will you tell the Minister? From what he's said he's cast Unforgivables, and should be arrested. You might be willing to forgive him, but that doesn't mean he won't be arrested."

They rounded a corner, the sound of Harry's crutch echoing down the corridor. He glanced over at the headmaster when there wasn't an immediate reply. Dumbledore shook his head regretfully, and sighed.

"Legally speaking, Syde's actions as a Death Eater should be covered by the clemency the Ministry offered Death Eaters if they left Lord Voldemort's service. His actions since – whatever they may be – are unlikely to be penalised just so long as they have been directed at Death Eaters. Rufus is watching his Ministry crumble around him, and I cannot see him incarcerating anyone willing to fight Tom – even if he had a place to put them." He shook his head again, looking deeply sorrowful. "We are losing this war, Harry, despite Rufus and my best efforts, and I can foresee a situation very soon where Wizarding Britain is essentially lawless."

Harry stopped walking, and Dumbledore turned as he noticed. "My apologies, Harry, would you like a rest?" He smiled, slightly sadly, as if he knew that Harry would not wish to ask. "There is no shame in asking for one."

Harry shook his head – that hadn't been why he had stopped at all. It had been the defeatist nature of what Dumbledore had just said. He dutifully put his crutch forward, and started walking again. "I'm fine for the moment. But, um, thanks. What about what Aravenne said, do you think it can help?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly in thought. "It is largely hypothetical at this stage. The memory was compelling, and I can see Syde's reasoning, but first we shall have to discern whether or not it is possible, and then whether the attempt succeeded. The best way for me to accomplish that is arguably to discuss this in more depth with Syde, and locate the book he referred to, before discovering the location of this particular Archway of the Departed, and investigating what charms may have been cast upon it."

"So it might help?" Harry pressed, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"If true, then undoubtedly. I have long tried to understand what Tom did to cling to life once his curse rebounded, and have met with little to no success. Discovering how he survived could well be the only way we can kill him without fear of his return. All is not hopeless, Harry, despite how it may appear. We have suffered a blow recently, but even if that were to lead to the downfall of the Ministry, whilst one man or woman fights, there is hope." He smiled. "We have many more than just one person."

"But because of me," Harry said softly, with a lump in his throat, "Voldemort's just got the Scrivenings of Slytherin and will have spells that no-one else has even heard of. And it's my fault."

"Yes." Dumbledore acknowledged calmly. Harry felt his stomach drop as Dumbledore paused. Part of him had still held onto hope that someone else had been to blame. "However, Voldemort only has half of the Scrivenings. Miss Hermione Granger delivered the other volume to me intact."

Harry pulled a face. He had only remembered that other volume himself when telling Ginny what had happened, and it wasn't a huge comfort to him. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice, as he continued a gradual pace to the main staircase.

"Also, you cannot take all the blame. I made my fair share of mistakes too. Had I not, for example, allowed my feelings to colour my judgement, Percy Weasley would never have been in a position to do the things he did, which I am sure included information about our search for Salazar's home."

"I was the one who asked you to let him come to Grimmauld Place for Christmas." Harry said dully. "That started it all."

Dumbledore stopped in front of the first stair upwards towards his study, and looked towards him sternly. "My actions are my responsibility alone, Harry. As the leader of the Order of Phoenix, I appreciate others' viewpoints, but when I decide upon a course of actions, whatever follows is my responsibility. It is as wrong to take responsibility for other people's actions as it is to refuse to take responsibility for one's own."

Harry's eyes dropped to the ground. When he raised them again Dumbledore nodded, and then started to climb the stairs as he resumed speaking.

"Nor can the two of us share the blame between us: other people made their mistakes, and sometimes you must give credit to those who oppose you. Tom launched an attack which the Ministry and the Order combined could not contain, and that was a large part of the way events unfolded that day."

Harry didn't respond. The effort needed to climb the stairs was – though he hated to admit it – too great to allow him to talk as he did so. Dumbledore seemed to notice, and they ascended in silence.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

Sitting in a comfortable chair with a hot mug of coffee in his hands, Harry could have drifted off to sleep, but he forced himself to banish all thoughts of rest. The caffeine helped.

"I have talked with Miss Granger, and Miss Weasley, who know much of the events leading up to your confrontation with Tom, and I have experienced your own memory of that confrontation. However, these could only tell me so much, and so I would greatly appreciate it if you could describe the events of that day in full, starting from when you stepped foot on Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

Harry had expected Dumbledore to request that, and he found himself nodding. He leant forward, feeling apprehensive. There were things he didn't particularly want to tell Dumbledore: top of the list, the Avada Kedavra curse he had cast at Bellatrix, and the one he had cast at Pettigrew. He grimaced internally, and began to speak.

Dumbledore allowed him to talk, rarely asking for clarification, and to Harry's relief not asking for details as to his fight with Bellatrix. Harry kept to generalities and tried not to be too obvious as he tried to read Dumbledore's thoughts from his face. When he mentioned that Aravenne had claimed to have killed Rabastan Lestrange, Dumbledore nodded with an odd sort of smile on his face – as though a suspicion he had had, had been confirmed.

Harry faltered – as he had with Ginny – when he came to the spell he had aimed towards Pettigrew. By the way Dumbledore's face had become suddenly inscrutable, Harry was sure he already knew, yet by keeping silent was forcing Harry to speak.

By the time he started to describe the events at Godric's Hollow, Harry had drained his mug, and started upon another. It all seemed somewhat easier to talk about now than when he had talked to Ginny – all bar Hermione's possession in Slytherin's serpent's charm, which he had kept secret from Ginny.

Once he had finished, Dumbledore looked at him in silence for a while, leaving Harry feeling a little awkward. Eventually Dumbledore stroked his beard.

"Peter Pettigrew-" He began, but stopped as Harry shrunk back into his chair.

"I tried to stop myself," Harry said before Dumbledore could start again, "I really did. It was all happening before I realised it."

Dumbledore held up a quelling hand. "As I imagine you deduced, I spoke to Miss Granger about many things, including this incident. She vividly described a look of horror on your face, and that you cut off mid-incantation. I do not believe that you intended to cast the Avada Kedavra curse upon Peter Pettigrew."

"I still cast it though." Harry muttered, looking down.

"You did," Dumbledore confirmed, seriously, "and had that curse struck Peter, killing him, it would have been a deeply reprehensible action." Harry swallowed, and Dumbledore's voice became a little gentler, "As you are clearly aware.

"However, there are factors it would be wise not to overlook. You are human, Harry. Humans _do_ have emotions, and _do_ struggle to remain in control when they become powerful. One of your great strengths is the depth of your feeling towards other people, but just as your propensity to care for people is increased, so are your other emotions. You may well find yourself having to work harder than other people to remain in control."

"And I failed," Harry pointed out, dully, "I couldn't remain in control."

"A fact which leads us neatly to the second of the factors;" Dumbledore continued smoothly, "namely that you are still not yet seventeen. It is a rare human being indeed that learns how to feel emotions, and yet not allow them to control you, especially when they are as young as you. You and your friends have undergone experiences which the vast majority of people never dream of, and the bulk of those that have faced them do not find such matters trivial to cope with, no matter what their age. It takes time to achieve the presence of mind that you are expecting to have now."

Harry looked back at his Headmaster, and opened his mouth before eventually closing it without saying a word. Dumbledore waited for him to speak, so he did reluctantly. "But I don't have time, do I? If I can't control my emotions now, then sooner or later I'll do something I shouldn't."

"Perhaps. You are fortunate, however, in that you have two readymade skills that will help you in the short term. Indeed, I suspect that if you consider it, you will agree that they have been helping you already. Did you not just describe to me how your wandless magic lessons helped you to concentrate upon the summoning spell you needed when you fought Tom? Your emotions wished to cast the Killing curse, and yet you successfully controlled it into the spell you truly needed. True, they were not adequate when you faced Peter Pettigrew, but you are far from reaching your potential wandlessly.

"Secondly, you have shown a remarkable aptitude at Occlumency, which is a particularly powerful tool, not only in fighting against intrusions from without, but also intrusions from within. Occlumency will not lessen any of the emotions you are feeling, but it will aid you in choosing your actions, as opposed to being ruled by instinct."

Dumbledore studied Harry briefly. "Neither of these two skills will do anything to lessen your feelings, but they will provide you with the time you need in order to come to terms with them on your own."

Harry said nothing, but rather took another drink. He wasn't sure if there was much more that he or Dumbledore could say on the subject. Once he put his mug down once more therefore he changed the subject.

"What about Hermione? Will she be okay?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted. "What is your own impression?"

Harry grimaced. "I've hardly talked to her since I woke. Madam Pomfrey hasn't let her in the Hospital Wing much because she says Ron and I have needed rest. And when I have seen her, she hasn't said a lot." He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "She's been very quiet, and not very Hermione like."

"She faced an unpleasant experience which she felt unprepared for; a situation I know you can empathise with." Dumbledore's reply was gentle. "It is hard to predict how she will react, but the fact she is quieter than normal is not in and of itself something to be concerned about. Miss Granger naturally thinks about matters a great deal, and that being the case, requires time to consider what has happened."

"So what can I do?"

Dumbledore sighed. "There is no panacea for the human mind, I fear. Neither I, nor you, nor any other human, can offer a solution which is guaranteed to work. What we are able to do, however, is to provide friends with the love, patience, and solidarity which helps them through their troubles. Often these generalities in our behaviour towards others count for more than the specifics themselves."

"And Ron?" Harry asked in a hushed tone.

A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face. Smoothly, Dumbledore looked up, and brought his hands to his mouth in a steepled, thoughtful pose, and if Harry hadn't been so sure of what he had seen, the naturalness of the gesture would have easily hidden whatever Dumbledore was thinking. Harry hardly dared breathe, and atypically, Dumbledore didn't appear to notice. He looked away, feeling that he had perhaps unwittingly intruded upon Dumbledore's privacy.

"I shall speak to Mr Weasley soon. Indeed, were things other than they are, I should have spoken to him almost immediately." There was a hint of emotion in his voice. "Without having done so, and discerned his state of mind for myself, I feel ill qualified to suggest a course of action. What happened is something no one should be forced to endure, and I cannot tell just how badly it has affected him without speaking to him. Such events-" Dumbledore stopped speaking and shook his head. "I shall say no more until after we have spoken. It would be easy to jump to conclusions."

"We spoke last night." Harry said hesitatingly. "Just briefly… he didn't want to talk, but I think he needed to ask me what had happened before he actually believed it fully. I didn't – I don't – have a clue what to do."

"It is not a question with an easy answer, I'm afraid, Harry." Dumbledore's voice was gentle and sympathetic. "Much of what we do to help depends upon things that the other person says or does, and that cannot be worked out in advance. We must be guided by our empathy, and learn what helps and what hinders as we go along."

Harry swallowed - an unhappy taste in his mouth. It was unrealistic to expect to be able to wave a magic wand and charm away something like this, but somehow he had hoped Dumbledore would be able to do something somewhat along those lines. He took a deep - slightly shaky - breath. When he looked back towards Dumbledore, he could see concern etched in his eyes.

"We must continue, I am afraid. I think we should discuss the events at Chaser's Rest."

"Why did Voldemort send us there?" Harry asked after a moment. "Did he expect it to unsettle me or something?"

"Perhaps. Whatever the reason, I suspect it was mainly symbolic. It was the site of his greatest defeat, after all, and perhaps in Tom's mind, making it a scene of triumph would expunge that defeat from his memory. He likely also saw it as exuding confidence, in that he was facing you in an area in which your mother's protection should have been strongest."

Harry nodded slowly. It sounded like something Voldemort would do. When Dumbledore didn't continue he cast around for something more to ask him.

"There were a few questions I had about Legilimency." He broached hesitantly. "When Voldemort attacked me with it, he attacked me from two directions. From my scar, and the spell itself. I really wasn't expecting it."

"Perhaps we should have foreseen it." Dumbledore mused. "The link between you two, after all, is always there. Regardless, you coped. You managed to escape the spell initially, and when he once again attempted to attack your mind, you managed to adjust to it. Considering your lack of experience, and what is still only a limited amount of training, you did admirably."

"But there were still things that happened," Harry responded immediately, "that I don't understand. When he was forcing me to relive memories, how did he get me in them so fully? It was like it was the first time I'd been there."

Dumbledore nodded. "I can only offer my suspicions, based on our conversation today. I do not know of any particular skills in any form of mind magic which Tom could have harnessed to produce such an effect, therefore I suspect it was related to the rules in what you have dubbed your Sanctuary. Because you had no rule preventing it, Tom utilised it. When you are feeling stronger, of course, we can test that hypothesis."

"Okay," Harry responded slowly, "I suppose that makes sense, but that's not the only thing I don't get. Or – well, maybe it wasn't the Legilimency that caused it… What happened to my Patronus? I mean, it actually was a Patronus, wasn't it? It looked too real to be one. Too solid, I mean. And it was hurting Voldemort."

"I am quite certain that it indeed was a Patronus. However, I would suggest that it was one created with far more magical energy than is normal – indeed, far more than is safe to cast it with: as is evidenced by your current state of health. How you were able to cast it with such a force of magical energy is hard to say at the moment. It may well be that the memory you were reliving and the signifiers denoting your memories' locations in your mind both played a role."

"So it _was_ just a Patronus – just a really powerful one?" Harry asked dubiously, but when Dumbledore nodded, he looked and felt just as unsure. "So why did it hurt him then? Patronuses don't hurt people, they help them!"

Dumbledore remained thoughtful for a moment. "I am sure you remember, Harry, that in your first year you asked me why Professor Quirrell was unable to touch you without undergoing both tremendous pain and tangible physical harm."

"You said it was because he was being possessed by Voldemort, and so couldn't face the purity of the love my mother had left with me."

"Quite. The Patronus is perhaps the greatest representation of love that it is possible for us to create through conventional magic. With the power behind your particular Patronus that day as well-"

"It would have been even harder for him to bear." Harry finished. "It's as simple as that?"

Dumbledore hesitated, and looked thoughtful. "There are still avenues of thought I have yet to pursue. Indeed it could be, if-" He hesitated, and shook his head with a wry smile. "Let us just say that for now, at least, that would be my best understanding of the facts."

He studied Harry for a moment in silence. Eventually, he spoke once more. "If there is nothing else you wish to raise at this time, Harry, there are two things I wish to discuss."

Harry nodded, and waited for him to continue.

"Firstly, we had a conversation earlier this year about Professor Snape. You were, if I recall, rather frustrated that I would not share my reasons for trusting him with you. In our conversation that day, I told you that if your Occlumency improved enough, I would divulge at least some of them. Ten days ago, as we have discussed, you came face to face with a Legilimens of the highest calibre-"

"Don't tell me!" Harry interrupted suddenly. He shook his head. "I was lucky. If it happens again I might not be able to keep him out. It's too much of a risk."

Dumbledore said nothing, but raised his eyebrows in surprise. Harry bit his lip.

_I'm going to hate myself tomorrow. Hell – I'm going to hate myself in a couple of minutes' time._

"I'm going to have to just trust you;" Harry said firmly, ignoring his internal complaints, "you – not Sn- Professor Snape. He- Voldemort had no difficulty getting past my defences the first time, and even after that he overpowered me. I'm not going to be able to magic up a Patronus like that every time. And if the Scrivenings give him even more power…"

He swallowed unhappily, and looked aside.

Dumbledore tapped his fingers together. "Very well. This being the case, I do, of course, expect you not to place more suspicion upon Severus than any other person."

Harry looked down, and sighed. "I'll try." He offered a wry smile. "It's the emotions thing again."

Dumbledore's beard twitched. He stood.

"Speaking of the Scrivenings, as you no doubt expected, I have been waiting for your presence before plumbing its depths. Cursory inspection has shown no obvious way of opening the volume, and rather than match the power of my magic with Salazar Slytherin's, I fancy Parseltongue may be our best option."

Harry stood too, and followed him to his desk. Dumbledore waved a hand, and the book Hermione had carried from Slytherin's home appeared, surrounded by a number of charms which were visible to the naked eye. He hesitated, and glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded.

Harry studied the two snakes that circled the book, weaving between each other countless times, inset into both the back and front covers, and tight against the edges of the pages which were just barely visible beneath them.

"Open." He hissed.

The snakes unravelled slowly, one from each end. Their heads met in the middle, and the now untwined bodies shot away from each other. One curled up on the front cover, the other on the back, motionless. Harry looked back at Dumbledore, who smiled.

Carefully, the Headmaster reached forward, and opened the volume on to its first page. No words showed themselves. Instead, revealed, lay lines of snakes, twisted into contorted shapes across the page, remarkably similar to the carvings on the walls of the Chamber of Secrets.

Neither of them said a word for a moment. Eventually, Dumbledore broke the silence. "This script means nothing to you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"It seems clear," he replied, "that this is a form of writing peculiar to Parseltongues. I have had no joy with my attempts to translate the carvings below this school, although with a larger sample size to work with in this book, I may find greater fortune. However, I suspect that the task of translating this shall fall to you."

Harry nodded. "I think the snake said something like I should be able to unlock the secrets in the Scrivenings and that none of my friends could."

"That may or may not be true. It is clear, however, that you had best devote time towards the book's translation. Whilst I am loath to allow this book even in as safe a place as your home in Grimmauld Place, I shall set about creating a copy for you to study." He eyed Harry seriously. "Translating this may well be vital, Harry."

Harry frowned, conflicted. "I can't call Grimmauld Place home. I have to go to Privet Drive. You said that about my mother's protection – as long as I call Privet Drive home, the protection remains."

Dumbledore's gaze held a hint of reluctance.

"I have to go back. It's the right thing to do;" Harry insisted, "by me staying there, the Dursleys have more protection until my birthday. And I have to try to get them to leave Britain. It's the only way they'll live."

"I agree that every effort should be made to relocate the Dursleys to a safer country." Dumbledore replied firmly. "However, your presence is not necessary to achieve that aim. With your seventeenth birthday approaching, the protection your Aunt provides you with will expire, and thus there is no benefit to your being there. You will, indeed, be far safer at Grimmauld Place."

"There is no way a Witch or Wizard will ever persuade my Uncle to do anything," Harry retorted, "I dunno about my Aunt, you might persuade her, but not my Uncle. I might be able to, because at least I know his habits, and what works and what doesn't. I've had sixteen years to figure that out. If you don't let me try, and they end up hurt as a result…"

Harry broke off; Dumbledore's eyes had narrowed slightly in concern. After a period of silence, he eventually – and reluctantly - nodded. "Very well. I shall not, however, allow you to return until I am happy with the security assigned to protect your safety. It is likely that the weakness you sustained in your battle with Tom will remain with you for a prolonged period of time, and it makes you vulnerable, Harry. If danger threatens, you are unlikely to be in a fit state to respond."

Harry glanced at his crutch. "I know."

Dumbledore sighed. "It need not be said that you shall have any aid I can give in persuading your relatives to move, and in keeping them safe wherever they should move to. You must, however, remain inside for the entirety of your time there. This may, of course, complicate matters as regards to the Scrivenings, for it would be too dangerous to give you a copy of the book at Privet Drive.

* * *

X x X x X x X x X

* * *

"I shall leave you here."

Professor Dumbledore held the door to the Hospital Wing open for a grateful Harry. Through the door, Harry saw Hermione stand from beside Ron's bed, where Madam Pomfrey was now fussing: checking charms, and holding potions. Harry glanced back towards the Headmaster, who nodded.

He spoke too quietly for any inside the Hospital Wing to hear. "I shall speak with Mr Weasley soon, do not fear, Harry. However, such a conversation shall obviously require privacy, and Madam Pomfrey's consent, and thus I had best arrange it with her beforehand. For now, I would simply leave you with the urge to trust yourself. Simply by being yourself, you will help."

Harry grimaced in slight doubt, but nodded regardless. "Thanks."

The door closed behind him as he hobbled into the room. Hermione, by now, had drawn the curtains around Ron's bed, although there was still a gap through which she nodded in response to something Ron or Madam Pomfrey must have said. Saying something inaudible, she gently closed the curtains completely.

Harry made his way over to her, his crutch noisily clanging on the floor as his tiredness made him careless. Hermione jumped, and swivelled, her momentary shock morphing into a look of concern.

"You must be in pain if you're using that, Harry. Can I help?"

"I can't win, can I?" Harry asked in mock grouchiness. "If I don't use a crutch, you guys all pester me to, but now I do you're all worried as a result!"

As he'd hoped, Hermione smiled in amusement.

He winced. "Mind if I sit down?"

He dragged himself over to his hospital bed, and sat down with a slight groan. Catching sight of Hermione's face, he shook his head. "I'm just tired, mainly. It's nothing major." He paused. "How are you?"

Hermione hesitated, before sitting down on one of the chairs by his bed.

"Ron told us about Percy, this morning. He said–" She broke off, and looked Harry straight in the eye. "He told us everything you pretended to forget, and that he had asked you about it last night to make sure it really happened."

"I wasn't going to tell you before Ron did. It wouldn't have been fair on him."

Hermione's face softened, and she nodded. "No. It wouldn't."

"He couldn't have told you everything, though." Harry said quietly. "I managed to unmask Percy, and I talked to him. He thought by doing it he was protecting Ron and all his family." He shook his head and hesitated slightly. "It would be easier for Ron if Percy had been under the Imperius curse, or an actual Death Eater, I think."

Hermione frowned slightly, and spoke in a rather firm voice. "Percy showed that despite what happened he loved Ron: he interrupted Voldemort's Cruciatus curse after all. We mustn't let Ron believe anything else because it just isn't true."

That provoked a smile from Harry. "Have you just been trying to persuade Ron that?"

Hermione blushed slightly, but didn't reply.

Harry's grin got wider. "You're right of course, but it's just-"

Hermione glared at him.

Harry sobered, and he lowered his voice. "Just because Ron isn't ready to hear it now doesn't mean he never will be. He's probably not even fully worked out how he feels about it yet."

Hermione frowned. "What makes you think he didn't believe it?"

"Because I know what I was like when Sirius died," Harry told her, "okay, the circumstances were different, but I blamed myself for it. It took me a while until I was willing to accept it wasn't my fault." He lowered his voice further, slightly conspiratorially. "Plus you made sure that that was really clear when you said it, in case Ron overheard."

His smirk quickly turned to alarm as Hermione stood. "Wait!"

Hermione ignored him, and wrenched the curtains around his bed shut purposefully, before casting a silencing charm.

"Don't try to be smug, Harry. It doesn't suit you."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry."

"No you're not." Hermione said, rolling her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. The levity gradually faded away into an expression of concern. "But you're right. Ron didn't want to listen. So I dropped it. I just… I want him to see that despite everything there were good things that happened too. Percy obviously forgave him before he died, but Ron won't believe it. Despite everything that happened, he managed to keep going and help you fight Voldemort, but he just thinks that means he's a bad person because he was callous in some way. It's infuriating." She finished with a sigh.

"I was good at seeing the bad in everything too." Harry told her. "I think it's all to do with how you're feeling at the time. The worse you feel, the harsher you are on yourself."

She swallowed, but said nothing, instead looking away.

"Hermione," Harry began, slightly hesitantly, "I'm really worried about Ron, too, but when I asked how you were, I actually meant you, and not Ron. I mean, I know you're worried about Ron, but…" He trailed off, not sure how to address it.

Hermione looked back, brow furrowed. Harry wasn't sure if it was a trick of the mind, but she suddenly looked frailer and less sure.

She tried to smile, and shook her head. "I don't think I matter all that much compared to what happened to Ron. Or you." She added pointedly.

"Yes you do," Harry responded immediately, "Just because bad things have happened to other people doesn't mean whatever happened to you didn't – er – happen." He shook his head self consciously. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Hermione's response was quiet.

"You used to get annoyed with me for not talking to people about things." He pointed out.

Hermione gave a slightly incredulous yet amused sigh. "Are you just going to repeat the kind of things I said to you last summer?" An unwilling smile crept onto her lips. "Is it some kind of revenge?"

Harry beamed happily. "Something like that."

Hermione shook her head in smiling exasperation. "I told you, smugness doesn't suit you. If you weren't so decrepit I'd throw something at you."

Harry raised his eyebrows cheekily, causing Hermione to glare at him, but her face softened almost immediately.

"I'm…" She took a long time choosing her words. "I'm discovering that there were a lot of things I thought I understood that I really didn't."

Harry waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "Do you know what actually happened? I mean, did you and Dumbledore work it out."

She nodded. "I think so. We were in something like Legilimency, Slytherin's avatar possessed me in that maze, and you managed to stop him somehow, right?"

"Yeah. I kind of got myself out of the charm, and talked to the snake."

Hermione didn't meet his eyes. "Maybe I should ask you to teach me Occlumency."

Harry, who was in the middle of swallowing, started coughing as it went down the wrong way. "I'd ask someone who actually knows what they're doing. Besides, I've got no business seeing any of your memories, so as I won't do that, all I could do is talk about it."

She gave a small gesture of assent, but remained looking away. "What's –" She sighed, and paused, "really terrifying about it, is whilst it was happening I didn't even realise I was being possessed. All the feelings felt like my own, everything I did seemed the right thing to do..."

She shuddered.

"Hermione, I-"

She shook herself and interrupted. "Harry, I appreciate you're just concerned, and after some of the things I've said to you, you might think it's hypocritical, but would you mind if we don't talk about it in detail right now? It's not that I'll never talk about it, but after some of the conversations I've had today, I don't think I'm in the best frame of mind for it."

Harry nodded. "Sure."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "Although, if you fancy trying to explain Occlumency to me, I'll listen."

* * *

_A/N: Just a short epilogue to go. About 1100 words - but they'll be a few A/N's to go with it._


	41. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Harry sat up. He had been falling asleep just sitting there. Frankly, he couldn't wait for his magic reserves to return fully. He had to deal with the onerous task of convincing the Dursleys of the danger they were in, and that they should flee. Thus far it wasn't going particularly successfully. He would certainly need all the strength – and patience – he could muster.

The tapping that had awoken him started up again. He stood, turning towards the window as he did. He stared in disbelief for a few moments, before running to lift the window latch. Hedwig flew through, hooting joyously. Fluttering, she landed hard on his shoulder, digging in with her claws firmly so that she couldn't be removed – even when her added weight caused Harry to stumble backwards onto his bed.

"Hedwig!" Harry breathed, a broad, incredulous smile on his face.

She pecked at his hair playfully, as if she were an owlet again, provoking a laugh from Harry – and a protective hand. He coaxed her from her perch so that he could see her properly, and give her all the fuss she wanted.

Eventually she tired of the attention, and held forth her leg solemnly. A note was attached. Harry took it from her eagerly, wondering just how Hagrid had effected such a transformation. Before reading it, however, he hurried over to Hedwig's cage to refill her water. She entered it happily, perched regally, and watched him carefully as he sat back down to read the note. It wasn't from Hagrid.

It was typewritten.

_Listen to what the snakes say from tail to tongue. They speak at a particular speed. Tell no-one of this note._

Harry stared at the note in shock. Hadn't Voldemort claimed that the note writer had killed himself rather than be captured by Voldemort? Had there been more than one of them? Was this a trap of some sort? But Hedwig had brought the note, and she seemed better. Of course, she had only needed to get better because of the note writer in the first place...

He reread the note, frowning. His eyes widened. If this meant what he thought it meant, then surely it couldn't be a trap?

He reached over to the bedside table for the piece of paper he had stared at time and time again, with no success other than faint, meaningless, hisses. Dumbledore had only been willing to allow him a copy of one page of the Scrivenings. Snake-like symbols littered it, without exception, their tails on the right, and their mouths on the left. This time, rather than starting from the left hand side of the page, he started from the right hand side, casting his gaze backwards, as he did so.

The familiar sound of unintelligible hissing sounded in his head.

Pursing his lips, he cast his eyes over the snakish squiggles more slowly – the note had suggested speed somehow made a difference. When there was no change, he slowed even further as he followed the lines to the end. The hisses seemed to fade somehow, and he had the frustrating sensation of being mere fractions away from success, as meaning tried to impose itself.

He tried again. Once more came meaningless noise, followed by clarity being just out of reach. He grimaced, and ignored the start of the line, concentrating instead upon the area which seemed most promising, playing with the speed of his reading. Suddenly, as he obtained the right rhythm, words formed themselves in his head as he reached the mouth of the final snake.

i"therefore, great caution should be used."/i

Harry tried reading the line again, thinking that now he had found the right speed, it should all make sense. However, he was again greeted by meaninglessness followed by six clear words. When the start of the second line also gave him no meaning, he reached for the note again. He studied it: he had clearly missed something. All it was saying, basically, was read it back to front to a normal book at a particular speed. That's what he was doing! At least it was half working.

_I am doing what it said, aren't I?_

He reread the note, slowly, and with a sudden flash of inspiration cast his eyes to the very bottom of the page, to the very final line. Undeterred by the wordless hisses, he continued reading at the same methodical pace until abruptly words entered his head. As he reached the end of the line, he immediately started the second line up, so that he was reading it from right to left, bottom to top.

_The potion should be prepared at no more than three days after the lunar eclipse, which is undoubtedly why it is now all but forgotten by today's Wizarding-kind. Amongst older generations, however, it seems to have been rather ubiquitous, for I have found scraps of records in many different parts of the country. One can understand just why more primitive societies must have prized it highly despite its current scarcity, for when magic was celebrated by Muggles it was yet immature, and lacking in skill, precision, and effectiveness, and therefore could not prevent many of even the most common fatalities during childbirth or childhood illnesses. The mortality rates of infants thus being high, fertility potions such as this one were more of a necessity than a luxury._

_My research suggests that the use of this potion neither impacts upon the magical ability of the child conceived, nor alleviates any of the many health risks during the pregnancy or the childbirth itself. There is thus far only slight evidence that the child will be more likely to be female, and that multiple children may be borne through use of the potion. As of yet this is not conclusive,"_

Harry stopped reading with a grin. Granted, fertility potions weren't likely to be particularly useful as a means of fighting Voldemort, but he could read Parselscript!

He glanced at the note again. It told – asked – him not to tell anyone. He could presumably hand it to Dumbledore, and they might have their best chance yet of discovering the identity of the writer. And Voldemort would then know both that the sender was alive, and maybe also who sent it, depending on where his spies might be. The same person who had just told Harry how to read the Scrivenings. The same one who had hurt Hedwig and the same – presumably – who had healed her.

He grimaced.

And tore up the note.

The scraps of torn paper suddenly flew out of his hands, and burst into conflagration. Harry watched them burn away, leaving all traces of ever having existed.

* * *

F I N

* * *

_A/N: And so, at last, after far, far too many years, the book comes to completion! I hope you have enjoyed - it has certainly been a remarkable journey for me. This is the first piece of fiction I have ever completed, and had to be a bloomin' long one at that didn't it? ;) I definitely feel that my actual writing has come on leaps and bounds. So, there are a few things I want to say about the last few chapters, that I didn't want to put in a position where they could interrupt the flow of the story, that and I wanted to delay explaining that chapter title! ;)_

_First things first, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has read but especially everyone who has read and reviewed! It has been very much appreciated by me, I assure you. I will do my best to look at any further reviews for the story, but feel free to chuck me a personal message if you want a reply. I'll do my best to get back to you, anyway._

_Secondly, the above mentioned chapter title: "d3 x c2+"._

_Some of you could have understood it immediately, I don't know. For those that didn't: it's chess notation - it's the way they note down the moves players take in chess so that it can be studied later. The lower-case letters and the numbers tells the square of the piece, (and as the piece making the move hasn't got an upper-case letter to signify its type, it is a pawn). The 'x' means it has taken a piece in order to get to its next square, and the '+' means it has checked the opponent as a result of its move. Overall, what it means was actually mentioned in that chapter, where Ron said this during his game of chess with Harry:_

_"Pawn d3 takes c2, check."_

_That was the first hint. The second hint was the title of the next chapter, which was 'En Passent', which is another chess term. So if any of you got that connection, very well done indeed! :) I really liked the title because it allowed me to express a complicated concept with just eight characters (including spaces)._

_Thirdly - Aravenne is Regulus! Well done for those who (like **Concealed Convict)** guessed. I have to say, I was furious when I read the end of HBP, because I knew immediately that R.A.B. was Regulus, and somehow that seemed to lessen the whole surprise, and made me fear it would be obvious in this story. And yes, although it is now hard to prove, this was all decided before HBP came out. There is some (_very_) minor foreshadowing early on, and I came up with his name by playing around with the name Regulus Black, and synonyms for 'star' and 'black' and translations etc. and then fudging them slightly into what felt like good names. You'll just have to take my word for it, I guess. (Obviously there's a lot more foreshadowing later, but that was after HBP came out.)_

_What else - I'm sure I'm forgetting things... Oh yes, Percy and Ron: you have no idea how guilty I felt about making Ron do that. It's so much easier now I've actually done it!_

_Oh, and this may not need to be said, but although the title of Chapter 38 was inspired by that line in the prophecy, the Patronus was not the power Voldemort doesn't know._

_Where does the story go from here? I'm still not sure whether I'll write a seventh year or not. I want to start something original, so it will likely depend on how well that goes. Sorry - I know it is rather set up for that 7th book now, with the note writer still anonymous, and a lead as to how Voldemort has stayed alive despite the Avada Kedavra curse and all. If I do write a 7th year it should all be tied up nicely (along with some bits you probably don't realise will be important...) and it should also be shorter, as I feel I've done a lot of work to set it up in this story. So I'm afraid I can't really give a satisfactory answer with that._

_There will, however, be another HP related piece going up very soon. Just a one-shot entitled 'Promises' that has been begging me to be written since... well, I read HBP actually. It's almost ready, and is about 6000-ish words. It'll be going up in about a week I'd guess, and is set not all that long before Voldemort killed Harry's parents. I hope you'll check it out, and if you do, I'll hope you'll enjoy! :)_

_Thanks for having come along for the ride!_

_Afterthought_btw_

___P.S. No, the fertility potion isn't going to help stop Voldemort! :p_


End file.
